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OF THE

BIRTH-DAY

DANIEL WEBSTER,

CELEBRATED AT THE

EEYERE HOUSE BOSTON,

JANUARY 18, 1856.

BOSTON:

PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE OF THE DAILY COURIER.

1856.

PRESS OF JOSEPH G. TORREY, 32 CONGRESS STREET.

IN MEMORY

6> 3.

DANIEL WEBSTER.

He is gone who seemed so great.

Gone ; but nothing can bereave him

Of the force he made his own

Being here, and we believe him

Something far advanced in state,

And that he wears a truer crown

Than any wreath that man can weave him.

:p ~r e f a. c e .

In compliance with a general wish that the pro-
ceedings and incidents of the Webster Banquet of
1856 should be preserved in a tangible form, I have
collected them together, and caused them to be printed
within these covers. The speeches have been revised
by their authors and perhaps improved, if it were pos-
sible to improve performances so finished. The
address of Mr. Everett, who presided at the dinner,
was worthy of the speaker and worthy of the sub-
ject: and higher praise can hardly be accorded to
it. It is a production not more remarkable for the
splendor and eloquence of particular passages than
for its general fidelity and accuracy as a delineation of
Mr. Webster's heart and character, as they were re-
vealed to his friends. It was delivered with an energy
and animation which gave due force and expression to
every excellence. The speeches of Messrs. Hillarcl,
Nye, Schenck, Lord, and Sanborn are — considered as
unstudied efforts — among the most eloquent and

appropriate tributes ever paid to the memory of
Mr. Webster.

There was one vacant chair at the banquet table.
Mr. Choate, who had prepared himself for the occasion,
was taken quite ill in the afternoon, and was unable
to attend. His letter to Mr. Harvey will be found
among the proceedings of the evening.

In printing the names of the subscribers to the

dinner it ought to be noted, in explanation, that the

festival not being strictly public, and the hall at the

Revere House of comparatively limited size, the tickets

for the dinner were not on sale, and it was out of the

power of many gentlemen who desired it, to obtain

them.

j. c.
Boston Courier Office, \

February 22, 1856. J

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE BANQUET.

Edward Everett,
William Appleton,
Lewis W. Tappan,
George B. Upton,
Isaac Thacher,
Franklin Haven,
Charles H. Mills,
Peter Butler, jun.
Otis P. Lord,
F. W. Lincoln,
Wm. A. Crocker,
David Sears,
Wm. Dehon,
James S. Amory,
George Ashmun,
Fletcher Webster,
Wm. Amory,
George R. Sampson,
John S. Tyler,
Tolman Willey,
O. D. Ashley,
William Thomas,
Peter C. Brooks,
T. H. Perkins,
B. R. Keith,
Wm. W. Tucker,
George P. Upham,
J. N. Fiske,
Vernon Brown,

Rufus Choate,
Samuel A. Eliot,
Albert Fearing,

D. Whiton,
Saml. T. Dana,
James K. Mills,
H. K. Horton,
M. H. Simpson,
Horatio Woodman,
Saml. A. Appleton,
Enoch Train,
Charles Larkin,

J. P. Healy,
J. M. Beebe,
James W. Paige,

E. D. Sanborn,
Peter Harvey,
Saml. Hooper,
J. M. Howe,
Jarvis Slade,
Chas. F. Bradford,
W. H. Davis,
Lewis Bullard,
Chas. Torrey,
Albert F. Sise,
Henry Upham,
Wm. Davis, jun.,
George Beaty Blake,
B. K. Hough,

N. A. Thompson,
James Read,
C. C. Chadwick,
George C. Richardson,
David A. Simmons,
Kirk Boott,
Patrick Grant,
Alanson Tucker, jun.
R. W. Newton,
R. B. Forbes,
Edmund Dwight,
Edwd. E. Pratt,
J. B. Tobey,
Wm. Almy,
Israel Whitney,

E. B. Bigelow,
Henry L. Hallett,
B. E. Bates,

S. E. Guild,
Charles Gordon,
O. W. Holmes,
A. S. Wheeler,

F. O. Prince,
George Ticknor,
Melancthon Smith,
Robt. M. Mason,
Wm. T. Eustis,
Saml. H. Gookin,
George L. Pratt,
H. C. Hutchins,
George O. Whitney,
Nathan Hale,

Otis Kimball,
Sidney Brooks,
Francis Bacon,

E. D. Brigham,
Robt. M. Morse,
Adolphus Davis,
Thomas Lamb,
S. E. Sprague,
John T. Heard,
Francis C. Gray,
J. M. Bell,
Wm. S. Thatcher,
Wm. D. Ticknor,
G. Tuckerman, jun.,
A. H. Nelson,
John A. Blanchard,
J. W. Edmands,
Harrison Ritchie,
George S. Hillard,

F. Skinner,

Wm. C. Rives, jun.,
E. Palmer, jun.

D. F. M'Gilvray,

E. F. Farrington,
Wm. W. Greenough,
E. F. Wilson,

A. T. Hazard,
E. R. Mudge,
S. R. Spaulding,
S. W. Marston, jun.,
George B. Nichols,
John Foster,

A. H. Rice,
J. C. Boyd,
Wm. G. Bates,
Levi Brigham,
George Bateman,
E. B. Strout,
Edward B. Everett,
H. Sidney Everett,
George W. "Warren,
Wm. F. Weld,
James Lodge,
J. Brooks Fenno,
James French,
Joseph Coolidge,
Wm. E. Lawrence,
J. H. W. Page,
C. J. B. Moulton,
Ebenezer Cutler,
Homer Foot,
Franklin Morgan,
S. G. Snelling,
Stephen N. Stockwell,
Charles Hale,

E. P. Tileston,
Wm. C. Ferris,
E. G. Stanwood,

J. B. Glover,
Henry Lyman,
John Clark,
Benj. P. Shillaber,
J. B. Joy,

Eichd. Baker, jun.,
Thomas Chickering,
N. L. Frothingham,
Edwd. G. Parker,
Horace G. Hutchins,
Chas. A. White,
James W. Sever,
C. P. Curtis,
J. H. Eastburn,
H. C. Deming,
J. B. Bunrill,
George T. Davis,
R. M. Blatchford,
Rev. C. Robbins,

Chaplain.

THE DINNER

Was served in the gentlemen's ordinary. In the
reception-room were Hoyt's full length portrait of
Webster, and Otis's full length portrait of Washing-
ton. The dinner tables were gorgeously and tastefully
decorated with flowers and flags. Behind the Presi-
dent of the feast — the Hon. Edward Everett — was
a portrait of Mr. Webster, painted by Ames, and at
the other end of the hall, Clavenger's bust. Across the
partition, on the right of the President's chair, was
displayed this motto :

" While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting,
gratifying prospects spread out before us, for us and
our children. Beyond that, I seek not to penetrate
the veil. God grant that in my day, at least, that
curtain may not rise ! God grant that on my vision
never may be opened what lies behind ! When my
eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun
in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken
and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union."

Behind the President's chair was the following :

" Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather
behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now
known and honored throughout the earth, still full
high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their
original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a
single star obscured ; but everywhere spread all over

in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample
folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and
in every wind under the whole heavens,"

On the east wall of the hall was displayed — the
continuation of the sentence from the same famous
speech of Mr. Webster — these words :

" That sentiment dear to every American heart, —
Liberty and Union, now and for ever, one and in-
separable."

Thirty-two flags were displayed on the tables, and
a bouquet of flowers attended every plate. On the
first (of the three tables) was the pillar of state, sur-
mounted by a golden eagle ; on the base of the pillar
were these mottos, taken from one of Mr. Webster's
replies to Mr. Calhoun :

" Yes, sir, I would act as if our fathers, who formed
it for us, and who bequeathed it to us, were looking on
me."

" I would act, too, as if the eye of posterity was
gazing on me."

" I came into public life, sir, in the services of the
United States. On that broad altar all my public vows
have been made."

" I move off under no banner not known to the
whole American people, and to their constitution and
laws."

On the second table was a model of the mansion at
Marshneld ; and on the third, an exact copy of the
house in which Mr. Webster was born.

On the right hand of Mr. Everett were seated
Fletcher Webster, Esq., Hon. R. H. Schenck of Ohio,
Hon. George Ashrnun of Springfield, Nathan Hale,
Esq., James W. Paige, Esq.; and on his left hand, the
Rev. Chandler Robbins, Hon. Samuel A. Eliot, Hon.
David Sears, George Ticknor, Esq., and Hon. William
Appleton. We also recognized, among those present,
Hon. George S. Hillard, Hon. Otis P. Lord of Salem,
Hon. George T. Davis of Greenfield, Dr. Oliver W.
Holmes of Boston, Hon. Mr. Hazard of Connecticut.

Before dinner, the following prayer was offered by
the Rev. Chandler Robbins :

"Almighty God, God of our fathers, our God and
our King ! Living by thy compassion, surrounded by
thy goodness, overshadowed with thy mercy, we praise
Thee, we worship Thee, we give glory to thy name.

"With joy and thankfulness we acknowledge the
blessings Thou hast poured upon our country, and the
favors with which Thou hast crowned our lives. We
thank Thee for all the great, and wise, and good men
who have contributed to the foundation, advancement,
and harmony of the American Republic: but especially
do we give thanks, at this hour, for the valuable ser-
vices of that statesman and patriot whose memory we
have met to revive and cherish in our hearts, and the
influences of all whose wise counsels we seek to perpetu-
ate for his country's good, and his own just honor. We
thank Thee for his printed works, so free from the stain
of immoral sentiment, selfish ambition, and irreverent
phrase, but crowded with wise and clear sentences —
maxims, and oracles of constitutional liberty and po-
litical science.

" For all that was great, and useful, and laudable in
his public and private life, we thank Thee, O God ;
though we put not our trust in man, and remember

that in thy sight the princes and judges of the earth
are vanity.

" Attend and follow, we beseech Thee, with thy
blessing these commemorative festivities. Fill our
hearts with all pure and just sentiments, all liberal
and patriotic affections. Purify, strengthen, and har-
monize our Union. Let peace and righteousness dwell
and grow together within our borders. Mercifully
pardon our sins, accept our prayers, and help us all
to live to thy glory, through our Blessed Lord and
Redeemer, Jesus Christ. Amen."

The dinner was sumptuous. It was, perhaps, the
most elegant public dinner ever given in Boston.
When the courses were over, and the cloths removed
for the dessert, the servants withdrew, leaving the
hall undisturbed. A large number of ladies were now
admitted into the grand entry, within sight and
hearing. Mr. Everett rose at seven o'clock, and spoke
thus :

Speech of the Hon. Edward Everett.

Gentlemen, — I rise in pursuance of the object which
has brought us together at this time ; the only object,
certainly, which, after long retirement from scenes of
public festivity, would have induced me to occupy the
chair in which you have placed me this evening. We
have assembled on this, the anniversary of his birth-
day, to pay an affectionate tribute to one of the great-
est and wisest and purest of the patriots, statesmen,
and citizens of America. Still, my friends, I do not
rise to pronounce the eulogy of Daniel Webster. That
work was performed, at the time of his lamented de-
cease, in almost every part of the country, and by a
greater number of the distinguished writers and speak-

ers of the United States than have, in any former in-
stance, with the single exception of Washington, paid
this last office of respect to departed worth. It was
in many cases performed with extraordinary ability;
among others, especially, by gentlemen of more than
one profession, who favor ns with their presence on this
occasion, whose performances, besides doing noble
justice to their great theme, will take a perma-
nent place in the literature of the country. In their
presence I rise for no such presumptuous purpose;
before this company I rise for no such superfluous
attempt, as that of pronouncing a formal eulogy on the
public character and services of the great man to whose
precious memory we consecrate the evening.

On the contrary, gentlemen, on this occasion and in
this circle of friends, most of whom, in a greater or
less degree of intimacy, were individually known to
to him, and had cultivated kindly personal relations
with him, I wish rather to speak of the man. Let us
to-night leave his great fame to the country's, to the
world's care. It needs not our poor attestation ; it has
passed into the history of the United States, where it
will last and bloom forever. The freshly remembered
presence of the great jurist, invisible to the eye of
sense, still abides in our tribunals; the voice of the
matchless orator yet echoes from the arches of Faneuil
Hall. If ever it is given to the spirits of the departed
to revisit the sphere of their activity and usefulness on
earth, who can doubt that the shade of Webster re-
returns with anxiety to that Senate which so often
hung with admiration upon his lips, and walks by night
an unseen guardian along the ramparts of the capitol ?
Of what he was and what he did, and how he spoke

and wrote and counselled, and persuaded and con-
trolled and swayed in all these great public capacities,
his printed works contain the proof and the exemplifi-
cation ; recent recollection preserves the memory ; and
eulogy, warm and emphatic, but not exaggerated, has
set forth the marvellous record. If all else which in
various parts of the country has been spoken and
written of him should be forgotten, (and there is much,
very much that will be permanently remembered,) the
eulogy of Mr. Hillard pronounced at the request of the
city of Boston, and the discourse of Mr. Choate de-
livered at Dartmouth College, — whose great sufficiency
of fame it is to have nurtured two such pupils, — have
unfolded the intellectual, professional, and public cha-
racter of Daniel Webster, with an acuteness of analy-
sis, a wealth of illustration, and a splendor of dic-
tion, which will convey to all coming time an adequate
and vivid conception of the great original.

Ah, my friends, how little they knew of him, who
knew him only as a public man ; how little they knew
even of his personal appearance, who never saw his
countenance except, when darkened with the shadows
of his sometimes saddened brow, or clothed with the
terrors of his deep, flashing eye ! These at times gave
a severity to his aspect, which added not a little to the
desolating force of his invective and the withering
power of his sarcasm, when compelled to put on the
panoply of forensic or parliamentary war. But no
one really knew even his personal appearance who was
not familiar with his radiant glance, his sweet ex-
pression, his beaming smile, lighting up the circle of
those whom he loved and trusted, and hi whose sym-
pathy he confided !

Were I to fix upon any one trait as the prominent
trait of his personal character, it would be his social
disposition, his loving heart. If there ever was a per-
son who felt all the meaning of the divine utterance, " it
is not good that man should be alone," it was he. Not-
withstanding the vast resources of his own mind, and
the materials for self-communion laid up in the store-
house of such an intellect, few men whom I have
known have been so little addicted to solitary and
meditative introspection; to few have social inter-
course, sympathy, and communion with kindred or
friendly spirits been so grateful and even necessary.
Unless actually occupied with his pen or his books,
and coerced into the solitude of his study for some
specific employment, he shunned to be alone. He
preferred dictation to solitary composition, especially
in the latter part of his life, and he much liked, on the
the eve of a great effort, if it had been hi his power
to reduce the heads of his argument to writing, to go
over them with a friend.

Although it is not my purpose, as I have said, on
this occasion to dwell on political topics, I may, in
illustration of this last remark, observe that it was
my'happiness, at his request, to pass a part of the
evening of the 25th January, 1830, with him; and
he went over to me from a very concise brief the main
topics of the speech prepared for the following day —
the second speech on Foot's resolution, which he
accounted the greatest of his parliamentary efforts.
Intense anticipation, I need not remind you, awaited
that effort, both at Washington and throughout the
country. A pretty formidable personal attack was to

be repelled; New England was to be vindicated
against elaborate disparagement; and, more than all,
the true theory of the Constitution, as heretofore gene-
rally understood, was to be maintained against a new
interpretation, devised by perhaps the acutest logician
in the country; asserted with equal confidence and
fervor; and menacing a revolution in the government.
Never had a public speaker a harder task to perform ;
and except on the last great topic, which undoubtedly
was familiar to his habitual contemplations, his oppor-
tunity for preparation had been most inconsiderable,
— for the argument of his accomplished opponent
had been concluded but the day before the reply was
to be made.

I sat an hour and a half with Mr. Webster the
evening before this great eifort. The impassioned
parts of his speech, and those in which the person-
alities of his antagonist were retorted, were hardly
indicated in his prepared brief. So calm and unim-
passioned was he, so entirely at ease and free from
that nervous excitement which is almost unavoidable,
so near the moment which is to put the whole man to
the proof, that I was tempted, absurdly enough, to
think him not sufficiently aware of the magnitude of
the occasion. I ventured even to intimate to him,
that what he was to say the next day would, in a
fortnight's time, be read by every grown man in the
country. But I soon perceived that his calmness was
the repose of conscious power. The battle had been
fought and won within, upon the broad field of his
own capacious mind; for it was Mr. Webster's habit
first to state to himself his opponent's argument in its

utmost strength, and having overthrown it in that
form, he feared the efforts of no other antagonist.
Hence it came to pass that he was never taken by
surprise, by any turn of the discussion. Besides,
the moment and the occasion were too important for
trepidation. A surgeon might as well be nervous,
who is going to cut within a hair's breadth of a great
artery. He was not only at ease, but sportive and
full of anecdote; and, as he told the Senate playfully
the next day, he slept soundly that night on the for-
midable assault of his accomplished adversary. So
the great Conde slept on the eve of the battle of
Rocroi; so Alexander the Great slept on the eve of the
battle of Arbela ; and so they awoke to deeds of im-
mortal fame. As I saw him in the evening, (if I may
borrow an illustration from his favorite amusement,)
he was as unconcerned and as free of spirit as some
here present have often seen him, while floating in his
fishing boat along a hazy shore, gently rocking on the
tranquil tide, dropping his line here and there, with
the varying fortune of the sport. The next morning,
he was like some mighty Admiral, dark and terrible ;
casting the long shadow of his frowning tiers far over
the sea, that seemed to sink beneath him; his broad
pendant streaming at the main, the stars and the stripes
at the fore, the mizzen, and the peak ; and bearing down
like a tempest upon his antagonist, with all his can-
vas strained to the wind, and all his thunders roaring
from his broadsides.

Do not wonder, my friends, that I employ these
military illustrations. I do so partly because, to the
imaginations of most men, they suggest the liveliest
3

conceptions of contending energy and power; partly
because they are in themselves appropriate —

" Peace hath her victories
Not less renowned than war."

On the two sides of this great parliamentary
contest there were displayed as much intellect-
ual power, as much moral courage, as much eleva-
tion of soul, as in any campaign, ancient or
modern. And from the wars of those old Assyrian
kings and conquerors, whose marble effigies, now
lying on the floor of Mr. William Appleton's ware-
house, after sleeping for twenty-five hundred years
on the banks of the Tigris, have, by the strange vicissi-
tudes and changes of human things, been dug up from
the ruins of Nineveh and transported across the
Atlantic — a wonder and a show, — I say from the
wars of Sennacherib and Nimrocl himself, whose por-
traits, for aught I know to the contrary, are among
the number, down to that now raging in the Crimea,
there never was a battle fought whose consequences
were more important to humanity, than the mainte-
nance or overthrow of that constitutional Union which,
in the language of Washington, "makes us one peo-
ple." Yes, better had Alexander perished in the
Granicus, better had Asdrubal triumphed at the
Metaurus, better had Nelson fallen at the mouth of
the Nile or Napoleon on the field of Marengo, than
that one link should part in the golden chain which
binds this Union together, or the blessings of a peace-
ful confederacy be exchanged for the secular curses
of border war.

That strong social disposition of Mr. Webster of

which I have spoken, of course, fitted him admirably
for convivial intercourse. I use that expression in its
proper etymological sense, pointed out by Cicero hi a
letter to one of his friends, and referred to by Mr.
Webster in a charming note to Mr. Rush, in which
he contrasts the superior refinement of the Roman
word convivium, living together, with the Greek sym-
posium, which is merely drinking together. Mr. Web-
ster entered most fully into the sentiment of Cicero,
so beautifully expressed in the letter alluded to: —
" Seel, mehercule, mi Pcete, extra jocum, moneo te,
quod pertinere ad beate vivendum arbitror ; ut cum
viris bonis, jucundis, amantibus tui vivas. Nihil aptius
vitae; nihil ad beate vivendum accommodatius. Nee
id ad voluptatem refero, sed ad communitatem \ita3 et
victus, remissionemque animorum, quae maxime ser-
mone efficitur familiari, qui est in convivio dulcissi-
mus, ut sapientius nostri quam Graeci; illi ovuttoo-w,
ant ovvdeinva^ id est compotationes aut conccenationes :
nos convivia ; quod turn maxime simul vivitur." * Mr.
Webster loved to live with his friends, with " good,
pleasant men who loved him." This was his delight,
alike when oppressed with the multiplied cares of

* Epist. ad Divers. IX., 24: — "But, without a joke, my dear Poetus, I
would advise you to spend your time in the society of a set of worthy and cheer-
ful friends ; as there is nothing, in my estimation, that more effectually con-
tributes to the happiness of human life. When I say this, I do not mean with
respect to the sensual gratifications of the palate, but with regard to that pleasing
relaxation of the mind, which is best produced by the freedom of social converse,
and which is always most agreeable at the hour of meals. For this reason the
Latin language is much happier, I think, than the Greek, in the term it employs
to express assemblies of this sort. In the latter they are called by a word which
signifies compotations, whereas in ours they are more emphatically styled con-
vivial meetings; intimating that it is in a communication of this nature, that life
is most truly enjoyed." Melmoth XIII., 9.

office at Washington, and when enjoying the repose
and quiet of Marshfield. He loved to meet his friends
at the social board, because it is there that men most
cast off the burden of business and thought ; there, as
Cicero says, that conversation is sweetest ; there that
the kindly affections have the fullest play. By the
social sympathies thus cultivated, the genial conscious-
ness of individual existence becomes more intense.
And who that ever enjoyed it can forget the charm of
his hospitality, so liberal, so choice, so thoughtful \
In the very last days of his life, and when confined to
the couch from which he never rose, he continued to
give minute directions for the hospitable entertain-
ment of the anxious and sorrowful friends who came
to Marshfield.

If he enjoyed society himself, how much he contrib-
uted to its enjoyment in others ! His colloquial pow-
ers were, I think, quite equal to his parliamentary
and forensic talent. He had something instructive or
ingenious to say on the most familiar occasion. In his
playful mood he was not afraid to trifle ; but he never
prosed, never indulged in common place, never dog-
matized, was never affected. His range of informa-
tion was so vast, his observation so acute and accurate,
his tact in separating the important from the unessen-
tial so nice, his memory so retentive, his command of
language so great, that his common table-talk, if taken
down from his lips would have stood the test of publi-
cation. He had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and
repeated or listened to a humorous anecdote with in-
finite glee. He narrated with unsurpassed clearness,
brevity, and grace, — no tedious, unnecessary details

to spin out the story, the fault of most professed
raconteurs, — but its main points set each in its place,
so as often to make a little dinner-table epic, but all
naturally and without effort. He delighted in anec-
dotes of eminent men, especially of eminent Ameri-
cans, and his memory was stored with them. He
would sometimes briefly discuss a question in natural
history, relative for instance to climate, or the races,
and habits and breeds of the different domestic ani-
mals, or the various kinds of our native game, for he
knew the secrets of the forest. He delighted to treat
a topic drawn from life, manners, and the great indus-
trial pursuits of the community ; and he did it with
such spirit and originality as to throw a charm around
subjects which, in common hands, are trivial and un-
inviting. Nor were the stores of our sterling: litera-
ture less at his command. He had such an acquaint-
ance with the great writers of our language, especially
the historians and poets, as enabled him to enrich his
conversation with the most apposite allusions and illus-
trations. When the occasion and character of the
company invited it, his conversation turned on higher
themes, and sometimes rose to the moral sublime.
He was not fond of the technical language of meta-
physics, but he had grappled, like the giant he was,
with its most formidable problems. Dr. Johnson was
wont to say of Burke, that a stranger who should
chance to meet him under a shed in a shower of rain
would say, " this was an extraordinary man." A
stranger, who did not know Mr. Webster, might have
passed a day with him in his seasons of relaxation,
without detecting the jurist or the statesman, but he

could not have passed a half an hour with him, with-
out coming to the conclusion that he was one of the
best informed of men.

His personal appearance contributed to the attrac-
tion of his social intercourse. His countenance, frame,
expression, and presence arrested and fixed attention.
You could not pass him unnoticed in a crowd ; nor
fail to observe in him a man of high mark and charac-
ter. No one coidd see him and not wish to see more
of him, and this alike in public and private. Not-
withstanding his noble stature and athletic develop-
ment in after life, he was in his childhood frail and
tender. In an autobiographical sketch taken down from
his dictation, he says : " I was a weak and ailing child
and suffered from almost every disease that flesh is
heir to. I was not able to work on the farm." This
it was, which determined his father, though in straight-
ened circumstances, to make the effort to send Daniel
to college ; because, as some said, " he was not fit for
any thing else." His brother Joe, " the wit of the
family," remarked that " it was necessary to send
Dan to school to make him equal to the rest of the
boys."

It was a somewhat curious feature of New England
life at that time, not wholly unknown now, that it was
thus owing to his being " a weak and ailing child," that
Mr. Webster received in youth the benefit of a college
education. This inversion of the great law of our na-
ture, which requires in the perfect man "a sound
mind in a sound body," was, I suppose, occasioned by
the arduous life required to be led by the industrious
yeoman in a new country. Whatever was the cause,

in a large family of sons the privilege of a " public
education," as it was called, was usually reserved for
the narrow-chested, pale-faced Benjamin of the flock,
the mother's darling. In consideration of showing
symptoms of tendency to pulmonary disease, he was
selected for a life of hard study and sedentary labour,
flickered awhile in the pulpit, and too often crept
before he was fifty to a corner of his own church
yard.

Mr. Webster, by the blessing of Providence, over-
came the infirmities of his childhood, and although
not long subjected to the hardships of the frontier,
grew up in the love of out-door life, and all the manly
and healthful pursuits, exercises, and sports of the
country. Born upon the verge of civilization, — his
father's house the farthest by four miles on the Indian
trail to Canada, — he retained to the last his love for
that pure fresh nature in which he was cradled. The
dashing streams, which conduct the waters of the
queen of New Hampshire's lakes to the noble Merri-
mac ; the superb group of mountains (the Switzer-
land of the United States) among which those waters
have their sources ; the primeval forest, whose date
runs back to the twelfth verse of the first chapter of
Genesis, and never since creation yielded to the
settler's axe ; the gray buttresses of granite which
prop the eternal hills ; the sacred alternation of the
seasons, with its magic play on field and forest and
flood; the gleaming surface of lake and stream in
summer; the icy pavement with which they are
floored in winter ; the verdure of spring, the prismat-
ic tints of the autumnal woods, the leafless branch

es of December, glittering like arches and corridors
of silver and crystal in the enchanted palaces of fairy
land; sparkling in the morning sun with winter's
jewelry, diamond and amethyst, and ruby and sapph-
ire; the cathedral aisles of pathless woods, — the
mournful hemlock, the "cloud-seeking" pine, — hung
with drooping creepers, like funeral banners pendent
from the roof of chancel or transept over the graves of
the old lords of the soil; — these all retained for him
to the close of his life an undying charm.

But though he ever clung with fondness to the wrild
mountain scenery amidst which he was born and passed
his youth, he loved nature in all her other aspects.
The simple beauty to which he had brought his farm
at Marshfield, its approaches, its grassy lawns, its
well-disposed plantations on the hill-sides, unpretend-
ing but tasteful, and forming a pleasing interchange
with his large corn fields and turnip patches, showed
his sensibility to the milder beauties of civilized cul-
ture. He understood, no one better, the secret
sympathy of nature and art, and often conversed on the
principles which govern their relations with each other.
He appreciated the infinite bounty with which'nature
furnishes materials to the artistic powers of man, at
once her servant and master ; and he knew not less that
the highest exercise of art is but to imitate, interpret,
select and combine the properties, affinities and pro-
portions of nature; that in reality they are parts of one
great system : for nature is the Divine Creator's art,
and art is rational man's creation. The meanest weed
and the humblest zoophyte is a most wondrous work
of a more than human art, and a chronometer or an

electric telegraph is no dead machine, but a portion of
the living and inscrutable powers of nature — magnet-
ism, cohesion, elasticity, gravitation, — combined in
new forms and skilfully arranged conditions, boxed up
and packed away, if I may so express it, for his con-
venience and service, by the creative skill of man.

But not less than mountain or plain he loved the
sea. He loved to walk and ride and drive upon that
magnificent beach which stretches from Green Har-
bour all round to the Gurnet. He loved to pass hours,
I might say days, in his little boat. He loved to
breathe the healthful air of the salt water. He loved
the music of the ocean, through all the mighty octaves
deep and high of its far-resounding register ; from the
lazy plash of a midsummer's ripple upon the margin of
some oozy creek to the sharp howl of the tempest,
which wrenches a light house from its clamps and
bolts, fathom deep in the living rock, as easily as a
gardener pulls a weed from his flower border. There
was, in fact, a manifest sympathy between his great
mind and this world-surrounding, deep heaving, mea-
sureless, everlasting, infinite deep. His thoughts and
conversation often turned upon it and its great organic
relations with other parts of nature and with man. I
have heard him allude to the mysterious analogy
between the circulation carried on by veins and arteries,
heart and lungs, and the wonderful interchange of
venous and arterial blood, — that miraculous compli-
cation which lies at the basis of animal life, — and that
equally complicated and more stupendous circulation
of river, ocean, vapour, and rain, which from the fresh
currents of the rivers fills the depths of the salt sea;
4

then by vaporous distillation carries the waters which
are under the firmament up to the cloudy cisterns of
the waters above the firmament; wafts them on the
dripping wings of the wind against the mountain sides,
precipitates them to the earth in the form of rain, and
leads them again through a thousand channels, open
and secret, to the beds of the rivers, and so back to the
sea. He loved to contemplate the profusion of life in
the ocean, from the scarcely animated gelatinous spark,
which lights up the bow of the plunging vessel with
its spectral phosphorescent gleam, through the vast
varieties of fish that form so important a part of the
food of man, up to the mighty monsters which wallow
through its depths, from which they are dragged by the
skill and courage of the whaleman, to light our dwel-
lings; — a species of industry, by the way, first prac-
tised in this country in the waters of the old colony,
and along this very beach and the adjoining shores .*
Few persons, not professed men of science, were as
well acquainted as Mr. Webster with the natural his-
tory of the sea. And then the all-important functions
of the ocean in reference to the civilization and social
progress, to the commercial and political relations of
nations. You can easily see, my friends, by how many
points of attraction a mind like his would be led to
meditate on these subjects.

I remember with great distinctness a drive which I
took with him upon that noble beach to which I have
just alluded, in the summer of 1849. It was a rainy
morning, and we were in an open chaise. Heavy
clouds alternately lifting and sinking, hung over the

* N. A. Review, XXXVII , 100; Mass. Hist. Coll., First Series, III., 157.

water, and the wind was chilly for the season, from
the north-east, but he enjoyed the drive. The state
of public affairs was interesting at the commencement
of a new administration, but not a word was said of
politics. He talked principally of the scene before us,
of the sea, dwelling upon some of the topics to which
I have alluded. He did not like the epithet "barren,"
applied to the sea in Homer, as usually translated, and
was gratified with the suggestion that there were other
interpretations of the word more elevated and full of
meaning. As we drove off the beach, being compelled
to do so by the shower, he said, " when I am at
Franklin, I think there is nothing like the rivers and
mountains, and when I come to Marshfield, it seems
to me there is nothing like the sea. There is certainly
something in it which fills the mind, and which defies
expression. Upon the whole, Byron was right: —

" There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture in the lonely shore,

There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar.

I love not man the less, but nature more
For these our interviews, in which I steal

From all I may be and have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, but cannot all conceal."

Mr. Webster's keen relish for the beauties of nature
gave a freshness to his perception of her every day
occurrences, which, in consequence of their familiarity,
are looked upon by most persons with indifference.
Witness that beautiful letter on " the Morning" which
has found its way into the papers. Surely never was

such a letter written before by a statesman in political
life starting on a tour of observation. Spending but
a single day in Richmond, he rises at four o'clock to
survey the city in the gray of the morning, and
returning to his lodgings at five o'clock, addresses
that admirable letter to his friend and relative, Mrs.
J. W. Paige, of Boston :

"It is morning, and a morning sweet, fresh, and
delightful. Every body knows the morning in its
metaphorical sense applied to so many objects and on
so many occasions. * * * But the morning itself
few people, inhabitants of cities, know any thing
about. Among our good people of Boston, not one
in a thousand sees the sun rise once in a year. They
know nothing of the morning. Their idea of it is,
that it is that part of the day which comes along
after a cup of coffee and a beef-steak, or a piece of
toast. "With them morning is not an issuing of
light, a new bursting forth of the sun, a new waking
up of all that has life from a sort of temporary
death, to behold again the works of God, the
heavens and the earth. * * * The first faint
streaks of light, the earliest purpling of the east
which the lark springs up to greet, and the deeper
and deeper coloring into orange and red, till at length
the glorious sun is seen, ' regent of day,' — this they
never enjoy, for they never see.

" Beautiful descriptions of the sun abound in all
languages, but they are the strongest perhaps in those
of the East, where the sun is so often an object of
worship1. King David speaks of taking to himself
the ' wings of the morning.' This is highly poetical
and beautiful. The wings of the morning are the
beams of the rising sun. Eavs of light are wines. It
is thus said that ' the sun of righteousness shall arise
with healing in his wings;' a rising sun which shall

scatter life and health and joy throughout the uni-
verse." * *

" I know the morning, I am acquainted with it,
and I love it, fresh and sweet as it is, a daily new
creation breaking forth and calling all that have life
and breath, and being to new adoration, new enjoy
ment and new gratitude."

But Mr. Webster's mind was eminently practical,
and it was by no means through his taste and feelings
alone that he entered into this intimate communion
with nature. He allied himself to it by one of the
chief pursuits of his life. Notwithstanding the en-
grossing nature of his professional and official duties,
he gave as much time and thought to agriculture as
is given by most persons to their main occupation.
His two extensive farms at Franklin and Marshfield,
the former the much loved place of his birth, the
latter the scarcely less favored resort of which he
became possessed in middle life, were carried on under
his immediate superintendence, — not the nominal
supervision of amateur agriculturists, leaving every
thing, great and small, to a foreman ; but a minute
and intelligent supervision given to particulars, to
the work of every week, and where it was possible
every day; when at home by actual direction, and
when absent by regular and detailed correspondence.
In the large mass of Mr. Webster's letters, there is
no subject more frequently treated or with greater
interest than this, in his correspondence with his
foremen and others in relation to his farms. Brought
up on a New England farm, he knew something from
the associations of his early days of old-fashioned
husbandry; and in later life, observation, experi-

ment, and books had kept him up with the current
of all the recent improvements.

"With every department of husbandry, — the quali-
ties of the soil, the great art of enriching it, to
which modern chemistry has given such extension ;
the succession of crops and their comparative adapta-
tion to our soil and climate; the varieties of ani-
mals, and their preference for draft, flesh, and the
dairy; the construction and use of agricultural im-
plements,— with all these subjects, in all their
branches and details, he appeared to me as familiar
as with the elementary principles of his profession.
His knowledge of them was practical as well as
theoretical, derived in part from experience, and
actually applied by him in the management of his
own farms. He had an especial fondness for fine
live stock, and possessed admirable specimens of it,
European and American. This taste never deserted
him. On one of the last days of his life, he caused
himself to be moved to a favorite bay-window,
and after he had been employed with his friend
and secretary (Mr. G. J. Abbot) in dictating a part
of his will, he directed three favorite yoke of
Styrian oxen to be driven up to his window, and
having entered into a particular description of their
age, breed, and history, gave directions for their being
weighed and measured the following day. No sub-
ject attracted more of his attention in England
than farming. The only public speech made by
him in that country, of which a report has been
preserved, was that made at the meeting of the
Royal Agricultural Society at Oxford. His first

public address on his return to this country, delivered
in the State House in Boston, contained the results
of his observations on the agriculture of England.*
Many of you, my friends, must have heard Mr. "Web-
ster converse on agricultural topics. I recollect on
one occasion to have heard him explain the condi-
tions which determine the limits within which the
various cereal grains can be cultivated to advantage
in Europe and America ; unfolding the doctrine of
isothermal lines, in connection with the various
grains, some of which require a long summer and
some a hot summer. His remarks on this subject,
evidently thrown off without premeditation, would
have enriched the pages of a scientific journal.
On another occasion I remember to have heard him
state with precision the descent of a favorite native
breed of horses, with all the characteristic points of
a good animal; and on another, the question relative
to the indigenous origin of Indian corn. I name these
familiar instances, which now occur to me, among the
recollections of the social board. Several of you,
my friends, could greatly enlarge the list-
In fact, whether as a citizen, a patriot, or a practi-
cal philosopher, Mr. Webster's mind was powerfully
drawn to agriculture. Could he have chosen his
precise position in life, I think it would have been
that of an extensive landholder, conducting the ope-
rations of a large farm. At Oxford he said — " What-
ever else may tend to enrich and beautify society, that
which feeds and clothes comfortably the mass of man-

* Works, Vol. I., 435, 443.

kind should always be regarded as the great foun-
dation of national prosperity." In the beginning of
that address in the State House, to which I have
referred, he said — "I regard agriculture as the
leading interest of society. * * * I have been
familiar with its operations from my youth, and I have
always looked upon the subject with a lively and deep
interest," At the meeting of the Norfolk Agricul-
tural Society, at Dedham, (which Mr. Harvey recol-
lects,) he called agriculture " the main pursuit of
life." Weighty words from such a source ! "What
Mr. Webster considered " the leading interest of
society" and " the great foundation of national pros-
perity" might well occupy his time, his thoughts, and
his profound attention. Before popular bodies he
spoke of it in its economical relations; but in nar-
rower circles and on proper occasions he delighted
to dwell on its sublime philosophy.

And what worthier theme, my friends, can occupy
the most exalted intellect; what subject is so well
calculated to task the highest powers of thought 1
Where in the natural world do we come so near
the traces of that ineffable Power, which, in the
great economy of vegetation, hangs orchard and
grove and forest with the pompous drapery of May,
and strips them to their shivering branches in No-
vember ; which lays out universal nature as we now
behold her, cold and fair, in this great winding-
sheet of snow, not to sleep the sleep of death, but
to waken her again by the concert of birds and
warbling brooks and the soft breezes of spring;
and which, when man cries to Heaven for his daily

bread, instead of giving him a stone, smites the mar-
ble clods of winter all round the globe with his
creative wand, and bids them bring forth grass for the
cattle and herb for the service of man, and wine
that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil that
causeth his face to shine, and bread which strengthen-
eth the heart of man.

I meant, gentlemen, to have said a word of the de-
light taken by Mr. Webster in the healthful and
invigorating sports of the forest, the field, and the sea ;
with what keenness and success he followed them,
how well he understood them. In these he found his
favorite relaxation from the anxieties of office, and the
labors of his profession. They were to him a diver-
sion, in the proper sense of the word. They diverted,
turned away, his mind from the great cares of life, and
furnished him an exhilarating occupation, which, with-
out mental strain, stimulated and refreshed his intel-
lectual powers. To these sports he brought all the
science and mastery which their nature admits. An
apt pupil in the school of old Izaac Walton, he
was entirely familiar with the angler's curious lore.
The different kinds of fish that fill our waters —
their habits, their resorts, their seasons, their rela-
tions to each other ; the birds which frequent our
shores, marshes, and uplands, with every variety of
larger game, had been subjected by him to accu-
rate investigation, particularly in reference to their
points of resemblance to their European congeners.
It was not easy to ask him a question upon any topic
of this kind, to which a satisfactory reply was not
ready.

5 .

I hope, my friends, you will not think I am dwel-
ling on trifles. You all know how deeply the taste
for these manly sports entered into Mr. Webster's
character. The Americans, as a people, at least
the professional and mercantile classes, and the other
inhabitants of the large towns, have too little con-
sidered the importance of healthful, generous recrea-
tion. They have not learned the lesson contained
in the very word, which teaches that the worn out
man is re-created, made over again, by the season-
able relaxation of the strained faculties. The father
of history tells us of an old king of Egypt, Ama-
sis by name, who used to get up early in the
morning, ( but not earlier than Mr. Webster,) des-
patch the business, and issue the orders of the day,
and spend the rest of the time with his friends, in
conviviality and amusement. Some of the aged coun-
sellors were scandalized, and strove by remonstrance
to make him give up this mode of life. But No,
said he, as the bow always bent will at last break,
so the man, forever on the strain of thought and
action, will at last go mad or break down. You
will find this in the second book of Herodotus,
in the one hundred and seventy-third section.
Thrown upon a new continent, — eager to do the
work of twenty centuries in two, the Anglo-Ameri-
can population has over-worked and is daily over-
working itself. From morning to night, from
January to December, brain and hands, eyes and
fingers, — the powers of the body and the powers
of the mind, are kept in spasmodic, merciless activity.
There is no lack of a few tasteless and soulless

dissipations which are called amusements, but noble,
athletic sports, manly out-door exercises, which
strengthen the mind by strengthening the body, are
too little cultivated in town or country.

Let me not conclude, my friends, without speak-
ing of a still more endearing aspect of Mr. Web-
ster's character, I mean the warmth and strength of
his kindly natural affections. The great sympathies
of a true generous spirit were as strongly developed
in him as the muscular powers of his frame or the
capacities of his mighty intellect. In all the gentle
humanities of life he had the tenderness of a
woman. He honored his parents, he loved brother
and sister and wife and child, he cherished kinsman,
friend and neighbour, the companions of boyhood,
townsman, aged school-master, humble dependant,
faithful servant, and cultivated all the other kindly in-
stincts, if others there be, with the same steadiness,
warmth and energy of soul with which he pursued
the great material objects of life. Mere social com-
placency may have a selfish basis, but Mr. Webster's
heart was " full of great love." * Religious convic-
tion is an act of the understanding, but he bowed to
the Infinite with the submissiveness of a child.
With what tenderness he contemplated the place of
his birth ; how fondly he pointed to the site of the
humble cottage where he first drew the breath of
life ; how he valued the paternal trees that shaded
it ; how his heart melted through life at the thought
of the sacrifices made by his aged parent, — the hard
working veteran of two wars, — to procure him an

* Spenser.

education; how he himself toiled till midnight with
his pen in the least intellectual employment to secure
that advantage to his older brother ; how he cher-
ished the fond sympathies of husband and father,
how he sorrowed over the departed ; how he planted
his grief, if I may say so, in the soil of Marsh-
field, in designating the trees by the names of his
beloved son and daughter ; how beautiful the dedica-
tions in which he has consigned his friendships and
his loves to immortality ; how sublime and touching
the pathos of his last farewells ; how saint-like the
meditations of his departing spirit ; — how can I
attempt to do justice to topics like these, whose
sacredness shrinks from the most distant approach
to public discussion! These were the pure fountains
from which he drewT not merely the beauty but the
force of his character, every faculty of his mind and
every purpose of his will, deriving new strength and
fervor from the warmth of his heart.

But some one may ask, is this bright picture, like
the portraits of Queen Elizabeth, without a shade ;
were there no spots upon the disc of this meridian
sun? Was he at length

" That faultless monster which the world ne'er saw,"

or did he partake the infirmities of our common hu-
manity ? Did this great intellectual, emotional, and
physical organization, amidst the strong action and
reaction of its vast energies, its intense conscious-
ness of power, its soaring aspirations, its hard
struggles with fortune in early life, its vehement
antagonisms of a later period, the exhilarations of

triumph, the lassitude of exertion, did it never, under
the urgent pressure of the interests, the passions, the
exigencies of the hour, diverge in the slightest degree
from the golden mean, in which cloistered philoso-
phy places absolute moral perfection X To this ques-
tion, which no one has a right to put but an angel,
whose serene vision no mote distempers ; to which no
one will expect a negative answer, but a Pharisee,
with a beam in his eye big enough for the cross-
tree of a synagogue, I make no response. I confine
myself to two reflections : first, that, while contem-
porary merit is for the most part grudgingly esti-
mated, the faults of very great men, placed as they
are upon an eminence where nothing can be con-
cealed, and objects of the most scrutinizing hostility,
personal and political, are like the spots on the sun,
to which I have compared them, seen for the most
part through telescopes that magnify a hundred, a
thousand times ; and second, that in reference to
questions that strongly excite the public mind, the
imputed error is as likely to be on the side of the
observer as of the observed. We learn from the
Earl of Rosse, that the most difficult problem in
practical science is to construct a lens which will
not distort the body it reflects. The slightest aber-
ration from the true curve of the specular mirror is
enough to quench the fires of Sirius and break the
club of Hercules. The motives and conduct, the
principles and the characters of men buried deep
in the heart, are not less likely to be mistaken
than the lines and angles of material bodies. The
uncharitableness of individuals and parties will

sometimes confound a defect in the glass with a
blemish in the object. A fly hatched from a maggot
in our own brain creeps into the tube, and straight-
way we proclaim that there is a monster in the
heavens, which threatens to devour the sun.

Such, my friends, most inadequately sketched,
in some of his private and personal relations, was
Mr. Webster; not the jurist, not the senator, not
the statesman, not the orator, but the man ; and
when you add to these amiable personal traits,
of which I have endeavored to enliven your recol-
lections, the remembrance of what he was in those
great public capacities, on which I have purposely
omitted to dwell, but which it has tasked the
highest surviving talent to describe, may we not
fairly say that, in many respects, he stood without
an equal among the men of his day and genera-
tion ? Besides his noble presence and majestic coun-
tenance, in how many points, and those of what
versatile excellence, he towered above his fellows !
If you desired only a companion for an idle hour,
a summers drive, an evening ramble, whose plea-
sant conversation would charm the way, was there
a man living you would sooner have sought than
him ? But if, on the other hand, you wished to be
resolved on the most difficult point of constitu-
tional jurisprudence or public law, to whom would
you have propounded it sooner than to him'? If
you desired a guest for the festive circle, whose very
presence, when ceremony is dropped and care ban-
ished, gave life and cheerfulness to the board, would
not your thought, while he was with us, have turned

to him] if your life, your fortune, your good
name were in peril ; or you wished for a voice of
patriotic exhortation to ring through the land ; or
if the great interests of the country were to be
explained and vindicated in the senate or the cabi-
net; or if the welfare of our beloved native land,
the union of the States, peace or war with foreign
powers, all that is dear or important for yourselves
and your children were at stake, did there live the
man, nay, did there ever live the man, with whose
intellect to conceive, whose energy to enforce, whose
voice to proclaim the right, you would have rested
so secure'? Finally, if, through the "cloud" of party
opposition, sectional prejudice, personal "detraction,"
and the military availabilities which catch the dazzled
fancies of men, he could have " ploughed his way,"
at the meridian of his life and the maturity of his
faculties, to that position which his talents, his
patriotism, and his public services so highly merited,
is there a fail' man of any party, who, standing by
his honored grave, will not admit that, beyond all
question, he would have administered the government
with a dignity, a wisdom, and a fidelity to the Consti-
tution, not surpassed since the days of Washington %

Two days before the decease of Daniel Webster,
a gentle and thoughtful spirit touched to the finest is-
sues, ( Rev. Dr. Frothingham,) who knew and revered
him, as who that truly knew him did not, contem-
plating the setting sun as he " shed his parting
smile" on the mellow skies of October, and antici-
pating that a brighter sun was soon to set, which
could rise no more on earth, gave utterance to his

emotions in a chaste and elevated strain, which I am
sure expresses the feelings of all present :

" Sink, thou autumnal sun !
The trees will miss the radiance of thine eye,
Clad in their Joseph-coat of many a dye,
The clouds will miss thee in the fading sky :
But now in other climes thy race must run,

This day of glory done.

"Sink, thou of nobler light !
The land will mourn thee in its darkling hour,
Its heavens grow gray at thy retiring power,
Thou shining orb of mind, thou beacon-tower !
Be thy great memory still a guardian might

When thou art gone from sight."

This speech was frequently interrupted by applause,
hearty and prolonged. At the close, the whole com-
pany rose, and cheered three times round. After a
pause, Mr. Everett rose and said :

" Gentlemen ; It is with the greatest concern that
I am obliged to state to you that we shall not be
favored this evening with the company of one to whom
you would have been so delighted to listen, I mean
the Honorable Rufus Choate. It was his intention,
until the last moment, to favor us with his presence
— hut he is severely ill, and unable to leave his resi-
dence. He has sent his deep regrets to the company ;
and he has sent, also, what you will listen to with the
greatest satisfaction, and that is a toast to the memory
of Daniel AVkbster, which I ask you now to drink
with inc. Allow me to give it from the paper sent
by Mr. Choate:

1 The Memory of Mr. Webster — Dearer and more honored
on every return of his Birthday, it will survive, and it can
perish only with the Constitution and the Union — may they
partake one immortality ! ' "

Speech of the Hon. George S. Hillard.

Mr. President, — I wish that it had been my lot to
follow some other man. " Who is he that cometh
after a king V I wish, too, that it had been my lot
to represent some other man. To follow you, Mr.
President, and to represent Mr. Choate, is a double
burden too great for human shoulders to bear. I
am sure that all who are present will feel with me
that in this glittering circlet there is an empty socket,
where Choate should be, but is not — that in this
constellation there is an absent, not a lost, Pleiad
whose light seems the brighter from its not being
visible to the eye of sense.

Let me first express the regret which I feel — which
we all feel — in the absence of our distinguished
friend ; and let me crave your indulgence while I
read a note from him, explaining the reasons why he
cannot be with us :

" My Dear Harvey, — I have struggled till this hour
in the hope of being with you. All is over now, and
I am in for a night of solitude and sickness. Let me
have your sympathy that I cannot join this noble
circle of Mr. Webster's steadfast friends. Sympathize
with me especially that I cannot hear the most elo-
quent of the living do such honor and justice as he
alone can do to the most beloved of the recent
dead. Let us all stand engaged to observe this an-

nual commemoration as a service not more of per-
sonal affection than public duty.

Your obedient servant,
4 p. m. Rufus Choate."

In rising to address you, I cannot entirely shake
off a feeling of constraint, almost of embarrassment,
arising from the contrast between the actual scene
of festivity around us and the occasion which has
given birth to it. All that meets the eye is sug-
gestive of gay and joyous emotions. These brilliant
lights — these delicate flowers — these graceful orna-
ments — this festive board — breathe the spirit of
light-hearted enjoyment. They are consonant with
that mood of mind in which the " bosom's lord sits
light upon his throne," and the heart is thrown open
to the entrance of airy and smiling fancies. But
the occasion is of another mood. It is solemn and
impressive ; darkened with thoughts of mortality and
overshadowed with a fresh sadness. Our loss is recent,
and our sorrow is not yet mellowed by time. The
admirers of Mr. Pitt, I believe, sometimes meet to
commemorate the day of his birth ; but to them Mr.
Pitt is but a name and a symbol. But Mr. Webster
does not lie so far in the past as to have become
a purely historical personage. Ours is a personal
loss and our grief has the sharpness and sting of a
personal bereavement. "We have seen his magnifi-
cent presence ; we have heard his impressive voice ;
we have felt the pressure of his hand. The image
of the man seems to brood over the whole scene.
We have read stories of shadowy visitants, and of
phantom guests that glide in on noiseless feet and

mingle in festive scenes. I have been conscious this
evening of the mysterious presence of an unseen
power — have seen the light of those dark eyes, and
felt the shadow of that majestic brow.

The life of a man like Mr. Webster readily divides
itself into two portions, his public and his private life.
His public life is part of the history of the country ;
it is known to all men ; and his friends calmly wait
for the unbiassed judgment of the future upon his
acts and his motives. But in his private life, much of
which was only revealed to the friends who shared
his closest confidence, there is abundant matter for
meditation ; and it appropriately supplies themes for
us this evening. The world saw in Mr. Webster a
great statesman, patriot, and orator ; but many who
sit around this board knew that in that large and
imperial nature there were secluded regions into
which the public did not enter, but which were full
of attraction to those who were thus privileged.
Trace the private life of Mr. Webster from its source
in the woods of New Hampshire to its close at Marsh-
field — view him as a son, a brother, a husband, a
father, a friend — and we see that each portion of it
is linked by natural laws to what preceded and what
followed. His whole being obeyed a natural and
progressive law of development: in the present, at
any moment, there were vital threads linking it to

the past.

There were two elements, especially, that entered
largely into the composition of Mr. Webster's nature ;
the strength and depth of his domestic affections and
his love of nature and love of the soil. Without

going so far as the Athenians, who required the
professional orators who discussed the matters laid
before their popular assemblies to be married men
and owners of landed property, it is certainly safe to
to say that these two elements contribute in no small
measure to the worth and the value of a states-
man. Compare Mr. Webster in these respects with
those three great contemporaneous lights of English
history, Burke, Fox, and Pitt. The only one of
the three between whom and Mr. Webster, in these
points, the parallel runs perfect is Burke. He was
a lover of nature and a lover of agriculture. He
was also a man of deep and strong domestic affec-
tions, as the pathos of those passages in his writ-
ings in which he speaks of the death of his son so
well proves. No one who has read the writings of
this great man can fail to recognize how much these
traits of his contributed to their power and their
enduring excellence. Pitt was a solitary man, with
no warm affections ; with little love for any thing
but power, and little taste for any thing but busi-
ness. The secret of his immense influence over his
contemporaries seems to have been in his immense
strength of will and in his power of cold, wither-
ing sarcasm ; which pierced and penetrated but never
warmed. The element of sympathy was not in him ;
nor were those instinctive perceptions and capacities
which flow from it. Can any one doubt that he
would have been not merely a happier man, but a
better statesman, if he had a wife and children
around him, and if he had had his father's taste
for planting and gardening. The life of Fox, as

we all know, was for many years one of indul-
gence, and he at length married a woman whom he
might love but could hardly respect. But he was a
childless man. He, however, had one taste in common
with Mr. AVebster: he was a lover of nature; and
never appeared to more advantage than in his
charming retreat of St. Anne's Hill, where he might
be seen, as one of his friends described him, " loung-
ing about the garden with a book in his hand,
watching the birds as they stole his cherries."

The life of Mr. Webster was an eminently New
England life. It was made up of elements drawn
from the soil and institutions of New England, and
which could have been derived from no other source ;
and not only that, but from the soil and institu-
tions of New England as they were fifty or sixty
years ago. The child of to-day — the future Webster
— born under corresponding circumstances, cannot
have the same elements flow into his life, because
New England is not now what it was then. Great
changes have taken 'place during the last half
century. Mr. Webster and his contemporaries, the
strong men that came from the woods of New Hamp-
shire and Vermont, seem to me a race of intellectual
Scandinavians, that swarmed out from the frozen
North, to reap the harvests of opportunity and pluck
the clusters of success, in more genial fields.

There is a poem of Tennyson's which always seemed
to me to have a peculiar application to Mr. Webster's
life and fortunes. With your permission I will read
it, as it is not long :

Dost thou look back on what has been,
As some divinely gifted man,
Whose life in low estate began,
And on a simple village green ;

Who breaks his birth's invidious bar,
And grasps the skirts of happy chance
And breasts the blows of circumstance,
And grapples with his evil star ;

Who makes by force his merit known,
And lives to clutch the golden keys
To mould a mighty state's decrees,
And shape the whisper of the throne ;

And moving up from high to higher,
Becomes on fortune's crowning slope
The pillar of a people's hope,
The centre of a world's desire ;

Yet feels as in a pensive dream,
When all his active powers are still,
A distant dearness in the hill,
A secret sweetness in the stream ;

The limit of his narrower fate,
While yet beside its vocal springs,
He played at Counsellors and Kings
With one that was his earliest mate;

Who ploughs with pain his native lea,
And reaps the labor of his hands;
And in the furrow musing stands —
Does my old friend remember me 1

In reflecting upon Mr. Webster's fame and for-
tunes, the pictures and reflections of this poem have
more than once recurred to me. He had early com-

panions and friends — rivals at the village school, and
sharers in his boyish sports — with whom he talked
of his future hopes and unformed plans — and whose
life was passed in modest obscurity, while his arose
to such glittering heights of renown and success. I
can fancy one of these boyish friends gathering his
family around him of a winter's evening, and reading
aloud one of the great senator's speeches, and telling
his children how he once sat upon the same bench
with the orator, and then, dropping his paper upon
his knees and asking himself the question : " I won-
der if Daniel "Webster remembers me % " We may be
assured that Mr. Webster did remember the friends
of his boyhood ; for one of his most marked traits
was his susceptibility to all those impressions which
ran back to the opening dawn of his life. That
chord in him was never touched without vibrating
sweet sounds.

Mr. President, we are here to-night, called to-
gether by a sentiment of admiration for a great man,
who did the state some service in his day. I hold
this sentiment to be an honorable feeling, worthy of
commendation and encouragement. Greatness is a
gift of God, to be gratefully received and acknow-
ledged ; but some portion of that feeling which great-
ness itself inspires is due to a genuine and unselfish
admiration of greatness. Nor is sincere and disinter-
ested admiration for greatness so very common a
thing. We owe to it, however, one of the most de-
lightful books in the English language— Boswell's
Life of Johnson. Every body reads this book, but
most persons rise from its perusal with a feeling of

something like contempt for the author. We think
he was rather a poor creature, who was willing
to fawn upon Johnson and endure such indignities
at his rough hands. But I think Carlyle took a
truer and more generous view of the relation be-
tween them. He said that the admiration of Bos-
well — a gentleman born — for the intellectual great-
ness of the low-born Johnson was an estimable and
even admirable trait, and that it raised him above
the vulgar prejudices of his class and rank. Bos-
well's father, Lord Auchinleck, was a respectable
Scotch judge, a whig and a Presbyterian ; but he was
full of the pride of birth and the pride of station,
and he looked down upon Johnson as a plebeian ad-
venturer. He called him " a dominie, that kept a
school, and called it an academy." In my judgment
Boswell's genuine and unselfish admiration of John-
son was a higher and nobler trait than the fathers
contempt for him, and that so far the former is set
above the latter. Allow me, then, in bringing these
remarks to a close, to condense what I have been
saying into a sentiment : — Great men, the jewels of
God — It is man's duty so to set them, that their
light may shine before the world.

President Everett. — Our friend, (Mr. Hillard,)
who has just taken his seat, has read a beautiful
little poem of Tennyson's. It reminds me of an in-
cident that occurred on one occasion when I hap-
pened to be at the Grand Opera of Naples. There
was present a member of the British royal family, and
out of compliment to him the band struck up " God

save the King." It happened that there were several
American sailors in the house at the time, and after
the band had got through with " God save the
King," one of those jolly and true-hearted Ameri-
can tars cried out, in English, somewhat to the
amazement of the Italians, who heard the stento-
rian cry from the gallery, without exactly knowing
what it meant : — " You have played ' God save the
King;' now give us « Hail Columbia ! ' (Laughter.)
My friend Hillard has given us a very beautiful ex-
tract from Tennyson, but our good friend Dr.
Holmes is among the company, and I am willing
to pit him against the poet laureate, Tennyson, or
anybody else. Mr. Hillard has given us Tennyson ;
now, I say, let us have Dr. Holmes. (Applause.)

The Poem of Dr. Holmes.

The band having played " Hail Columbia ! " Dr.
Holmes rose amid cheers, and delivered the following
poem with his characteristic excellence of manner,
and was repeatedly cheered as he proceeded :

When life hath run its largest round

Of toil and triumph, joy and wo,
How brief a storied page is found

To compass all its outward show !

The world-tried sailor tires and droops ;

His flag is dust, his keel forgot ;
His farthest voyages seem but loops

That float from life's entangled knot.

But when within the narrow space
Some larger soul hath lived and wrought,

Whose sight was open to embrace

The boundless realms of deed and thought

When stricken by the freezing blast,

A nation's living pillars fall,
How rich the storied page, how vast,

A word, a whisper can recall !

No medal lifts its fretted face,

Nor speaking marble cheats your eye,

Yet while these pictured lines I trace,
A living image passes by;

A roof beneath the mountain pines ;

The cloisters of a hill-girt plain ;
The front of life's embattled lines ;

A mound beside the heaving main.

These are the scenes ; a boy appears ;

Let life's round dial in the sun
Count the swift arc of seventy years,

His frame is dust ; his task is done.

Yet pause upon the noontide hour,

Ere the declining sun has laid
His bleaching rays on manhood's power,

And look upon the mighty shade.

No gloom that stately shape can hide,
No change uncrown its brow; behold !

Dark, calm, large-fronted, lightning-eyed;
Earth has no double from its mould !

Ere from the fields by valor won
The battle-smoke had rolled away,

And bared the blood-red setting sun,
His eyes were opened on the day.

His land was but a shelving strip,

Black with the strife that made it free ;

He lived to see its banners dip
Their fringes in the western sea.

The boundless prairies learned his name,
His words the mountain echoes knew,

The northern breezes swept his fame
From icy lake to warm bayou.

In toil he lived ; in peace he died ;

When life's full cycle was complete,
Put off his robes of power and pride

And laid them at his Master's feet.

His rest is by the storm-swept waves
Whom life's wild tempests roughly tried,

Whose heart was like the streaming caves
Of ocean, throbbing at his side.

Death's cold, white hand is like the snow

Laid softly on the furrowed hill,
It hides the broken seams below,

And leaves its glories brighter still.

In vain the envious tongue upbraids ;

His name a nation's heart shall keep
Till morning's latest sunlight fades

On the blue tablet of the deep !

Mr. Everett. I think you will agree with me that
" Hail Columbia" is about as good, this evening, as
" God save the King," [Cheers.]

There are many gentlemen present, both natives of
this and of other states, upon whom the Chair would
be most happy to call — the only difficulty being that
it is impossible to listen to more than one gentleman

at the same time. [Laughter.] The Chair is happy
to be informed that there is a gentleman present who
unites, to some extent, both capacities — a native of
Massachusetts and of Cape Cod, a friend of Mr. Web-
ster in earlier days, and a distinguished citizen of
New York, who has afforded us some encouragement
to hope that we shall have the pleasure of hearing
from him this evening. If General Nye is within the
sound of my voice, he will please come forward.

General Nye obeyed the summons, and spoke as
follows :

Speech of General Nye of New York.

Mr. President and gentlemen, — I hardly know
where to lay the blame of this infliction upon you.
I mistrust my friend here [Peter Harvey, Esq.] and
this friend [Hon. George Ashmun] that they have
been instrumental in inflicting upon you, for a mo-
ment, a small speech from me. [Laughter.]

It is true, Mr. President, my feet first made tracks
upon the sands of Cape Cod; but long ago, sir,
— away back in the pathway of time, — a good mo-
ther, to keep me from the sea, that the great man
whose memory you have met to-night to commemo-
rate loved so well, found her way to the central
part of New York, — upon an eminence, sir, that
New Englanders always find, of 11,000 feet above
tide water. I feel, sir, a strong presentiment that
you have been imposed upon in introducing me
as a " distinguished gentleman from the state of
New York." [Laughter.] I have no distinguishing

element in my character but a love for my native
state, a love for the citizens of that state, and for
the citizens of the state of my adoption, and of my
country. [Applause.] But, sir, I am going to at-
tempt to rob Massachusetts of some of the laurels she
claims in the character of the distinguished man
whose birthday you have met to commemorate.
He belonged not to Massachusetts. He was not
born within your borders. [Applause, and cries of
" Good ! " He was born upon the rocks of New
Hampshire, — a foundation as firm and unchanging as
the character he bore. [Renewed applause.] He was
not the property of Massachusetts — he belonged to
the nation, — nay, he had a wider field, — he be-
longed to the world. [Enthusiastic cheering.]

Sir, my heart pulsated with youthful emotions as
you spoke of the speech of speeches delivered by
Mr. Webster in the contest upon constitutional rights
with the most gallant son of the South. My youth-
ful ear drank in that speech ; and I see before me
to-night, passing in beautiful panoramic view, the
whole of that mighty and impressive scene. I saw
the gallant Hayne, whose lips were touched by a
live coal from the altar of eloquence, but I beheld
him overthrown with one blast from the bugle horn
of constitutional freedom. [Loud applause.] Sir,
New York shares in the honor and the imperishable
glory of Daniel Webster, and the far-off state that
laves its feet in the waters of the Pacific shares in the
honor and the fame of Webster. It remained for
nim to show the true basis upon which Constitutional
freedom rested ; and when this country was rocked to

its centre, when excitement had taken the place of
reason, it was his majestic form, it was his command-
ing voice that said to the waters — " Peace, be still ! "
[Loud cheers.] Therefore, Mr. President, I am un-
willing that Massachusetts alone should appropriate
the honor and the glory of Webster. He was the
nation's property ; and in that view, I do not feel
exactly as though I was an interloper, although
from another state, in appearing here on this occa-
sion. [Applause.]

There is one thing, sir, that perhaps I ought to
say. I never agreed with Mr. Webster politically.
It is strange that a man of such might should not
have been able to controul me — one so weak ; but
I was educated differently by a Democratic New
England mother. [Cheers.] But never, never was
there a moment when, if my vote would have eleva-
ted that man to the Chief Magistracy of the nation, that
he would not have had it. [Prolonged cheering.]

Mr. President, perhaps I ought to stop here. [" Go
on — go on !" ] I share in the sentiment of admira-
tion for Mr. Webster that has gathered this assembly
together. I know that in his inmost heart the Union
and the liberty of this country were the objects that
he most fondly cherished. [Loud applause.] Sir, I,
too, love the Union of my country, — I look to it as
he did, as the harbinger to the peace, happiness, and
prosperity of my country. The Union, sir, will ever
exist. It is cemented to its centre by revolutionary
blood. (Cheers.) It is bound around by the affec-
tions of twenty millions of freemen, and it is ade-
quate, and will be, to the exigencies that now exist

or may hereafter arise. (Loud applause.) Sir, if
there is a place on earth that should bend all its
energies to preserve the Union, it is Boston. That
mighty spire that stands here in sight rests upon
revolutionary bones. Here in Boston was the first
revolutionary blood spilt ; — the inscription was made
here, the quit-claim was written at Yorktown. (Great
cheering.) It was written, Mr. President, in the best
blood of our Revolutionary fathers. Let the waves
of excitement dash and break, let them scatter their
spray on every hand, yet, like the rock on a serf-
beaten coast, this Union will stand. (Enthusiastic
applause.)

Sir, I was an admirer of the character of Daniel
Webster. I remember with youthful emotion the
time when I used to sail in his little bark upon
the sea you have said he loved so well; and I have
now a bright silver dollar that he gave me the day I
was eleven years old. (Applause.) I have told my
wife not to be dismayed at all at the thought of
coming to want — I should never be out of money.
(Laughter.) The dollar shall abide with me until
time shall be, to me, no more. (Applause.) It is,
sir, the anchor of my financial ship. I have often
been reduced to that, but I have never yet been
obliged to let it go. (Cheers.) I drank in, as the
youthful ear will always drink in, the accents of
wisdom, many of the sayings of that wise man, which
I shall never forget. Sir, he was a boy. He could
accommodate himself to the capacity of a boy, and
made himself perfectly familiar with the unlettered
oarsman that plied at the oar as he directed. That

is no evidence that he was not a man — is itl
Boyhood and youth are the foundation of manhood,
and he had that foundation deeply laid ; and what
a beautiful superstructure did he rear upon it!
(Loud applause.) Sir, it is a custom that has the
sanction of ages for men to meet in commemoration
of the birth of distinguished men ; and I rejoice to
see here, the home and hearthstone of Webster, that
you meet to commemorate the birthday of a man that
fills a larger space in the civil history of our coun-
try than any man, living or dead. (Prolonged
cheering.) Hail, then, Massachusetts, that you were
the abiding-place of a Webster ! I greet you here,
and rejoice with you that you shared so largely in
the glory and honor of his services and his name !
(Great applause.)

Sir, I want to say one thing more — if I may be
excused. I have sometimes thought that Massachu-
setts, as Massachusetts, was a little ungrateful to the
memory of this great man. Sir, if Massachusetts
should strike a balance in her account with the
lamented Webster, she would owe him countless
millions. (Loud and prolonged cheering.) Let
Massachusetts, sir, come here to-night, and lay her
treasures before you, and he has earned them all.
(Renewed cheering.)

A Voice. Massachusetts will pay.

General Nye. Massachusetts ought to pay ! (Ap-
plause.) Sir, I have been a little gratified that I
left Massachusetts before she passed these criticisms
upon Daniel Webster. " Nothing beautiful but truth,"
is the Spanish proverb. (" Good ! ")

Mr. President, it is unfair that I should have been
called upon to address this assembly after they had
listened to your voice, to whose Athenian tones these
ears that were accustomed to harsher notes have lis-
tened with delight, — it was unkind that, after the
classic Hillard and my poetic friend Holmes, that I
sir, who graduated at the plough handle, should be
called in as background to complete the picture.
(Loud laughter and applause.) But, sir, I could not
withdraw. I hardly knew what it meant, sir, when
my friend Ashmun called on me to-day, and with even
more than his ordinary seductiveness, insisted upon it
and wrung from me the promise that I would dine
with him, and when he ushered me into the august
presence of this assembly, and when I saw yourself in
the position of presiding officer, I said, " Ashmun,
save me from my friends." (Laughter.) Then, sir,
I began to suspect what it all meant ; but I promise
you — and I will see that that promise is fulfilled —
that George Ashmun shall share the same mortifica-
tion. (Laughter and applause.)

The President. I think when our friend tells us
he graduated at the plough handle, and contrasts his
diploma with that of my friends Hillard and Holmes,
myself and the rest of us who went to college, he
but furnishes another proof of the justness of the
idea to which I have before alluded, that Mr. Web-
ster was sent to college, in the opinion of some per-
sons, because he was not good for anything else.
(Laughter.) I do not see what the use of going to
college is. (Kenewed merriment.) The gentleman
8

tells us that he is not a " distinguished citizen" of
New York. If that is the case, I say, so much the
worse for New York. (Laughter and applause.)
However, gentlemen, I can assure our friend, Gen-
eral Nye, that I will take care to carry into effect
his plot against Mr. Ashmun before I have done with
him. In the mean time the respect that is due to
gentlemen from other states requires me not to forget
that we have here a distinguished citizen from Ohio
— a gentleman who well knew Mr. Webster and ho-
nored and loved him. Allow me to introduce to you
the Hon. R. H. Schenck of Ohio.

Speech of Mr. Schenck.

Mr. Schenck said he came to listen, and had no
expectation that he should be called upon to take
any part in the festivities of the occasion, further
than to share in the general gratification of all pre-
sent. However, as he had been called up, he would
be doing injustice to his own feelings if he failed to
express the deep satisfaction he had experienced in
uniting with them in doing honor to that great man
who has gone from among us, if he did not say
with what more than ordinary emotion he had
listened to the remarks of the gentlemen who had
preceded him, and particularly to those of the Presi-
dent, whose delineation of the character of Mr.
Webster he alluded to as marked with an elo-
quence so fervid, with a poetry so beautiful, that
would make that speech one of the epics of the
land.

Mr. Schenck said he united with his friend from
New York in protesting against anything that should
look like an exclusive claim on the part of New
England to the fame of Mr. Webster. Mr. Webster
belonged to them all ; and he could never forget,
while Minnesota and Florida, and Massachusetts, and
other " border" states, were claiming that Mr. Web-
ster belonged to them, the centre of the country
throbs also for him. He (Mr. S.) was not in this
country when the news first went over this land
and the wide world that Daniel Webster was
gone. At that time he was in another hemisphere,
partly from the act and with the assent of Mr.
Webster himself, and perhaps that fact gave him
an opportunity of seeing the effect upon the mind
of this nation and the world better than those who
made a part in the scene in which that event
transpired. He could testify that when that sun
went down, it shed a gloom not merely over this
land, but a shadow was cast over the wide world.
When people abroad spoke of this sad event, they
did not allude to Mr. Webster as a citizen of Mas-
sachusetts, or a native of New Hampshire, then
lately deceased, nor as a man whose residence was
at the North or the South, the East or the West,
— they felt that a great American was no more.
(Applause.)

He would draw an illustration from the back-
woods from whence he came. If they stood in the
the forest, what did they see? Some giant oak
lifting its mighty branches to the clouds, and
bathing them in the dews of heaven; some tall

symmetrical maple, with its cone-shaped top, stretch-
ing far np ; some cloud-reaching pine, or some hum-
bler trees of the forest. Looking at them, they saw
each with its individual peculiarities and character-
istics ; but if they looked at the woods from a dis-
tance, they saw a green and glorious forest, in which
there is no distinguishing trees one from another.
So it was with our Union; so may it ever be!
May we be able to make each tree of that forest
forever a Liberty Tree, around which we may all
rally together ! (Prolonged cheering.) My word for
it, said Mr. Schenck, no surer way of securing this
sentiment in the public mind of this country can
possibly be found, than by remembering, at all
times, the glorious sentiments of the man whose
birthday we are met to commemorate. (Loud ap-
plause.)

The President. Now, gentlemen, I rise to fulfil
my compact with General Nye, and call upon the
Honorable George Ashmun — a warm, devoted, able
friend of Mr. Webster, in public and private, at all
times, in all confpanies, on all occasions.

Speech of Mr. Ashmun.

Mr. Ashmun, on coming forward, was greeted
with vociferous applause, followed by three hearty
and unanimous cheers. He said that he had no doubt
that whenever the President should call for a res-
ponse from one whom he pronounced to be a faithful

friend of Mr. Webster, there would be a hearty cheer
from such an assemblage of faithful friends as this ;
he thanked them for that cheer ; he claimed only to
have been a faithful friend of Mr. Webster, living
and dead, and with that tribute from a Massachu-
setts audience he would be content. He was faith-
ful to him because he loved him — loved him for his
great character, public and private, and few men,
he would venture to say, knew that character better
than he did. He was glad to stand here as one of
Mr. Webster's friends, to give his testimony, feeble
though it might be, to his memory. The President,
in an elaborate, beautiful, artistical manner, had
portrayed to the assembly the characteristics of that
great man ; he (Mr. Ashmun) was not to repeat
those words, to add to them, and he hoped not to
diminish or weaken them; all he desired to say
was, that among the richest recollections of his life,
those that he cherished as the most precious were
the recollections of the confidence and trust that that
great man was kind enough to give to him.

Mr. Ashmun said he was glad to add his hearty
tribute to the homage which was offered to the great
heart which now lay buried at Marshfield. If there
could be anything finer or more beautiful, — if there
could be anything in which the heart could join
more religiously than this manifestation, let him
hear it, and whether in the church or in the forum,
in temple or in field, he would make a pilgrimage
to join in it. He firmly believed that this homage
paid to Mr. Webster on the anniversary of his birth
was a guaranty for the safety of the nation.

In conclusion, Mr. Ashmun said he did not expect
to be called upon to address that assembly, but he
was never at liberty to be silent upon an occasion
when the memory or character of Mr. Webster was
to be considered. He had something to do with
him, and he hoped it was not a presumptuous boast,
both in public and private, and he would declare to
them that there was nothing human which was
cherished with so much reverence in his heart as the
character of Mr. Webster. (Applause.)

Hon. George S. Hillard here took the chair and
said : — Our distinguished chairman, after the fatigues
of this evening, has withdrawn, to seek that rest
which we all feel he has so fairly earned. I think I
do no more than express the feelings of gratitude
that throb in the bosoms of all, when I propose as
a sentiment —

Edward Everett — The statesman, the orator, the patriot,
the Elisha upon whom the mantle of our departed Elijah has
fallen. [Loud cheers. J

Gentlemen, it is perfectly true that, although we
meet here merely as citizens of Boston, we, as such,
have no right to any monopoly in the fame and
character of Mr. Webster ; for, if there be any one
thing that, more than another, marked that illus-
trious man, it was the breadth and comprehen-
siveness of his patriotism, and his scorn of every
thing narrow, sectional, local. We have heard from
Ohio and from New York tributes worthy of his
greatness : I am happy to say that a nearer state, a

New England state, is here represented by a worthy
son, who, I am sure, feels a sentiment in unison
with the prevailing tone of this evening. I will ask
you to give your attention when I call upon the Hon.
H. C. Deming, Mayor of Hartford, to speak in behalf
of Connecticut.

Speech of the Honorable Henry C. Deming, of

Connecticut.

Mr. President, — Connecticut and Massachusetts
are old allies. Civilization had scarcely planted its
footsteps around this harbor, when you sent out a
colony to gladden with its presence the loveliest of
rivers and the fairest of landscapes. We come here
from Connecticut to hail Massachusetts as our
mother. All hail to thee, great parent of states, in
whose waters the first puritan keel was laid — on
whose shores the Indian first met his deity — Civili-
zation. That civilization you dispensed to us, and
that alliance, thus formed, has been close, uninter-
rupted, and continual. During the long and bloody
war with the Indians, these two states mutually as-
sisted and protected each other against the foe, and
through the revolution they marched, shoulder to
shoulder, and arm in arm.

Besides this, Massachusetts has done more for us
still, and I cannot hear the name of "Webster,
without remembering that, in all our interests —
commercial, agricultural, and national — we leaned
and fell back upon his great arm, and I devoutly
believe that we owe it to him that we and the

sisterhood of states are still blended in a common
harmony. Why, sir, there is no state in the Union
where the heart, the character, and the fame of
Daniel Webster are more closely bonnd aronnd the
heart of the people than in Connecticut.

We were ready to enter into any canvass when
his name should be emblazoned on the flag ; and I
think it becomes both Massachusetts and Connecti-
cut, in this period of trial, to utter, not in fear but
in hope, the great petition which closed his speech to
Hayne — "When my eyes shall be turned to be-
hold for the last time the sun in the heavens, may I
not see him shining on the broken and dishonored
fragments of a once glorious Union — on states dis-
cordant, dissevered, belligerent — on a land rent with
civil feuds, or drenched in fraternal blood ; but let
their last feeble glance rather behold the gorgeous
ensign of the republic, now known and honored
throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its
arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre,
not a stripe erased or polluted, not a single star ob-
scured; bearing in its motto no such interrogatory
as ' What is all this worth \ ' or those other words
of delusion, ' Liberty first and Union afterwards,'
but streaming all over in characters of living light,
blazing in all its ample folds, as they float over the
sea and over the land, in every wind under the
whole heaven, that other sentiment, dear to every true
American heart, ' Liberty and Union, now and for-
ever, one and inseparable.' "

65
Speech of Hon. Otis P. Lord.

Mr. Lord said : —

He yielded to the call upon him, — wholly unexpect-
ed, and finding him therefore wholly unprepared, —
mainly to express his sympathy with the universal
sentiment of the assembly, of sincere regret, that the
distinguished friend of Mr. Webster, (Mr. Choate,)
who had been struggling for two days against sickness
and disease that he might be here to-night, has at last
been obliged to abandon his purpose. He knew how
anxiously that gentleman hoped to be here — how he
had made more than his accustomed preparation —
how we all should have been delighted — even beyond
our want — to listen to his thoughts of beauty and
wisdom — as they dropped, or rather as they were
cast, glittering and sparkling from his lips. Prov-
identially, he is prevented from being here ; — and the
company will hardly be obliged to you, sir, for making
his absence the more painfully felt.

Mr. Lord added, that he had hardly been personally
acquainted with Mr. Webster; — that it was his misfor-
tune to have had but few personal interviews with him,
and was but little familiar with his private life ; but he
admired and venerated him as every man who under-
stood him, though feebly, — venerated and admired him.
It was fitting and proper that this day should be set
apart to do him honor.

The Fourth of July is immortal — for on that day a

nation was born. The Twenty-Second of February is

immortal, for then a Washington was born — but who

else than Webster ever immortalized by a single act

any day in the calendar? No man to-day hears the
Seventh of March named without associating with it
Mr. Webster and the renown of the country.

Mr. Webster once said something like this : I speak
Mr. Lord said, from memory — "There are those now liv-
ing whose presence it was enough to speak of the nine-
teenth of April, without mentioning the year " — in-
stantly, 1775, and the battle of Lexington were brought
to mind ; and so to-day — the mention of the seventh
of March brings at once to mind that terrible agitation
of public affairs which was stilled only by the oil pour-
ed by this great statesman upon the troubled waters.

Our president has said that there was a question
which none but an angel might ask — but

Fools madly rush where angels fear to tread ;

And fools had rushed in and asked whether, after all,
there was not a spot upon this sun. It is pretty certain
it was not a sun if it didn't have a spot upon it. He
had an answer to make to this question. He would
ask this enquirer to go with him in the month of Oc-
tober, in the year 1852, just as this great spirit was
preparing for its flight to a better world, and witness
the scene at Marshfield — that sublime and holy death-
bed— and then tell him, who — after a life of three
score years and ten — with such vastness of power of
mind — having participated in such scenes of mighty
effort and complete triumph — with passions commen-
surate with that great capacity — who overlaid upon
his couch to meditate upon his coming dissolution with
a consciousness such as we know sustained and sup-
ported him. Who of his maligners now could feel

more sure of His rod and His staff in their passage
through that dark valley : — If you would know the
very heart of hearts of a man — do not ask so much
how he lived— but how he died. The sublimest spec-
tacle this continent ever witnessed was the departure
of that great soul from its earthly tabernacle — its wil-
ling submission of itself into the secure custody of its
Creator.

When malignant philanthropy turned up the whites
of its eyes in holy horror, he asked it to put its phari-
saic finger upon the sentence in Mr. Webster's works,
which it would obliterate. When it had attempted
this, it had shewn itself as imbecile as it is malig-
nant. For forty years Mr. Webster was before the
public — for forty years he was dropping almost orac-
ular sentences — and what scavenger has yet found that
passage — or that sentiment in any speech, that is not
fit to be transmitted to posterity ? Who ever, in their
most extravagant complaint against him, have been
able to quote the passage, to write down the words
uttered by him that were false to freedom, or false
to his country or false to himself? General denuncia-
tion and general abuse were dealt out freely enough
by small politicians and malevolent reformers, but he
had never yet known one of them to produce the sen-
timent uttered by Mr. Webster which any honest man
would dare declare to be inconsistent with his own
previous character — or hia devotion to truth, or to free-
dom and the great interest of humanity. Often had
he asked one and another to leave denunciation and
come to specification — but never — never in a single
instance — had he been able to find any reformer who

could point to any sentence and say, that is a senti-
ment which is not consistent with a perfect devotion
to truth and to the free institutions of his country.

How remarkable, said Mr. Lord, is one fact. There is
no reviler of Mr. Webster — however ultra — however
bitter and malignant — who does not feel sure that he
is right in any matter of political ethics, if he can find
his opinion supported by that of Mr. Webster. With
what eagerness is his authority seized upon — what
consciousness of impregnibilitydoes it give ; — and yet,
how unwisely used. Nothing with him in politics
was merely abstract ; with those who carped at him
every thing was abstract. His was profound wisdom
which viewed subjects in their relations to other sub-
jects; — theirs a wisdom which is incapable of compass-
ing more than one subject. Indeed all that is really
of value in these gentlemen's speculations, they take
from Mr. Webster himself. It is the excesses, the
excrescences, the extremes which are theirs. He didn't
run abstraction to these extremes — hence their
tears.

And why is it, that they and we have so pro-
found a respect for him ? Not because he was great.
Mere greatness may inspire wonder, but never respect
or love.

The people — the reading — intelligent — thinking-
people of the country, loved Mr. Webster ; not so
much because they knew him to be great, as because
they believed him to be a good man and a true patriot.
They loved him because they saw that the paramount
object of his life and his efforts was to strengthen and
perpetuate this American Union. Till within the past

quarter of a century the people of this country did not
generally fully understand and completely comprehend
the true theory of republican liberty. There were
notions of Liberty and of the Confederacy of the
States, but "our own peculiar American Liberty" the
people at large never fully grasped till the simplicity
of style of Mr. Webster demonstrated it. It is hardly
true to say that the speech of Mr. Hayne was an at-
tack upon the generally received opinions of the times.
The notions of the people were then quite vague up-
on the relations of the State and Federal government
— their relative powers and rights — and though a
mere boy at the time, Mr. Lord said he could well re-
member seeing the great speech of Mr. Hayne printed
upon satin, with letters of gold, as embodying the pop-
ular doctrines of the day. The speech of Mr. Web-
ster, in reply to that, was not at once and universally
received as the true theory of the Constitution. It
was read and studied. The mass of the people under-
stood it, aye, before the politicians or the statesmen of
the day yielded to it, the people sanctioned it. Three
years afterwards, Mr. Webster felt it incumbent upon
him, even more elaborately and with perhaps even
more intellectual ability, to reiterate and reaffirm and
re-demonstrate the truths of his Hayne speech ; and
nobody will fail to remember the satisfaction with
which he refers to his former effort, and the almost
exultant tone in which he speaks of the fact that the
people — the great mass of the American people — had
grappled with this monster — nullification — had come
then to fully understand it ; and that, therefore, there
would be no danger from it hereafter. How true the

prediction ! There is no intelligent man in any of
the ordinary walks of life, to-day, who does not fully
understand and fully believe the great doctrine of
that speech, and where, before had that doctrine
been developed, so as to be brought within the
reach of the common mind of the country. Well
might Mr. Webster reflect upon that speech as the
highest triumph in his great career. It settled forever
the construction of the Constitution in its most vital
part. It alone wTas sufficient to give immortality to
its author, and it is perhaps the only oration since that
great Oration for the crown which has conferred an
honorable immortality upon his rival as well as upon
the great orator himself. An intelligent people have
grasped the subject — they understand it — they un-
derstand the value of the Constitution — and the Un-
ion— they not only swear by the Constitution and the
Union, but they swear to maintain them against the
world. There is no danger to either. They are in
the keeping of an intelligent people — and so long as
the principles of our peculiar American Liberty — as
maintained and illustrated by the subject of our me-
morial to-night shall be understood by the people of
the country, so long shall the Constitution of the Union
be perpetuated.

Prof. E. D. Sanborn's Speech.

Dartmouth College has abundant reason to revere
the memory of Mr. Webster ; and every son of Dart-
mouth ought to rejoice to speak his praise ; not only
because his name and fame, as her most distinguished
alumnus, reflect honor upon the Institution which
gave him his intellectual culture, but because, in the
hour of her greatest peril, he plead her cause and
saved her from utter extinction. To his peerless el-
oquence and invincible logic, she owes her present
existence. The kind regard which Mr. Webster en-
tertained for his alma mater and his views of what
constitutes a thorough Christian education, are very
clearly exhibited, in a speech which he addressed to
the Faculty and students of Dartmouth College, in
1828. A brief extract will show the tenor of his
remarks :

" I am most happy, Mr. President and gentlemen,
thus publicly to acknowledge my own deep obliga-
tions to the college under your care. I feel that I owe
it a debt, which may be acknowledged, indeed, but
not repaired. And permit me to express my convic-
tion of the high utility, to individuals and to society,
of the vocation which you pursue. If there be any-
thing important in life, it is the business of instruc-
tion in religion, in morals and knowledge. He who
labors upon objects wholly material, works upon that
which, however improved, must one day perish. Nor
such is the character, nor such is the destiny of that
care which is bestowed on the cultivation of the mind
and heart. Here the subject upon which attention is
bestowed is immortal, and any benefit conferred upon
it equally immortal. Whoever purifies one human

affection, whoever excites one emotion of sincere pi-
ety, whoever gives a new and right direction to a hu-
man thought, or corrects a single error of the under-
standing, will already have wrought a work, the con-
sequences of which may extend through ages, which
no human enumeration can count and swell into a
magnitude which no human estimate can reach."

Mr. Webster's defence of the college, his high ap-
preciation of all liberal learning, and his unvarying
friendship for "old Dartmouth," claim for his memory
the affectionate homage of all her graduates and friends.

With great propriety did Judge Hopkinson declare
that this inscription should be placed over the doors
of her public Halls : " Founded by Elcazer Wheelock,
refounded by Daniel Webster."

But deeply indebted as the college is to Mr. Web-
ster, our common country, as it seems to me, owes him
equal gratitude ; and, — " parvis componere magnis,"
we might write as a fitting introduction to our excel-
lent Constitution, "Established by the wisdom and
labors of George Washington, preserved by the ge-
nius and eloquence of Daniel Webster."

The very maxims so appropriately selected from his
speeches, to adorn these walls, give strength and per-
manency to our glorious Union. Like the strong iron
clamps and melted lead of the old Roman builders,
"nee sevcrus Uncus abest liquidumoe plumbum," they
bind together the separate political blocks which con-
stitute the mightiest political edifice of this or any
other age ; and will continue to do so, till our master
builders bring forth the top stone with shoutings.

But the public life and services of Mr. Webster are

known and read of all men. They have been suffi-
ciently discussed, on other occasions, and especially,
this evening, by the most illustrious orators of our
country. It is not for me to follow in their steps,
" non passibus scquis." This field has already been
reaped, and the most that I could expect to do would
be to follow, as a gleaner, and gather a few straws to
weave a rustic garland for the tomb of departed great-
ness. But there are some lighter traits of his character
which, perhaps, on this festive occasion I may be per-
mitted to sketch — such as do not strike the specta-
tor of forensic or legislative debates.

" The meaning of an extraordinary man," said Sid-
ney Smith, " is that he is eight men, not one man ;
that he has as much wit as if he had no sense, and as
much sense as if he had no wit ; that his conduct is
as judicious as if he were the dullest of men, and his
imagination as brilliant as though he were irretrieva-
bly ruined." Every truly great man is many-sided,
or, to use a common phrase, " myriad-minded ; " there-
fore different observers of him give a different account
of him, according to the angle at which he is viewed,
or the side on which he is approached.

Mr. Webster's mind was of this description. He
had intellectual material enough for a whole house-
hold, aye, for a whole colony of ordinary men, women
and children, so as to give to each his portion in due
season. Those who met him only on public occasions,
where the proprieties of time and place required a dig-
nified and stately demeanor, pronounced him cold and
formal, though courteous and polite. Those who lis-
tened to the loftiest strains of his eloquence, " when
10

public bodies were to be addressed on momentous oc-
casions," were struck with awe at the majesty of his
person, the severity of his logic, and the overwhelming
power of his eloquence — or, rather, of what he de-
nominates " action, noble, sublime, godlike action."
To such men, he appeared to stand on an inaccessible
height above them, and not to belong to the ordina-
ry level of human sympathies. Let the same men
listen to his calm, unimpassioned arguments before a
learned Bench, where every sentence was fit for the
press as it fell from his lips, and all his words were
" like apples of gold in pictures of silver," always more
weighty and enduring than they seemed to be, and
they would pronounce him tame and prosy. Some-
times the eager spectator, who had come a great dis-
tance to be excited and amused, after listening to one
of his ablest arguments went away disappointed, and
like those who looked upon the simple dress and quiet
manners of the noble old Eoman statesman, Agricola,
demanded the proofs of his greatness.

Their conviction was that he had made no extraor-
dinary effort ; that any one might do as well ; but let
the same critic read his argument if he be an intelli-
gent man. He declares — " Ut sibi quivis speret idem ;
sudet multum, frustraque laboret ausus idem."

He was always appropriate to the occasion ; never
above it ; never below it. This is one of the most re-
markable features of his character. He could adapt
himself to all times and places ; to all ages and sexes ;
to all classes and conditions of men. He knew how
to discourse, with equal propriety, to the child and the
sage ; to the unlettered rustic and the erudite man of

science. He never obtruded his own opinions upon
others, or attempted to controvert theirs. He had no
hobbies of his own to advocate ; indeed he did not
consult his own taste in selecting topics of conversa-
tion. The pleasure of others was the law of his social
intercourse. With the divine he talked of theology ;
with the physician, of medicine ; with the scholar, of
literature. This he did as much from principle as from
politeness. He wished to be well informed on all the
great subjects of human interest. His views on this
subject are admirably illustrated in a letter to a young-
lawyer just entering upon his profession. His letter
was a reply to a declaration of the young attorney,
"that he intended to devote himself wholly to his
profession,1' and that he read few books except those
that related to the law. His answer was :

" Your notions [about your studies] are quite right,
as applicable to your own condition. You must study
practical things. You are in the situation of the " haud
facile emergunts," and must try all you can to get your
head above water. Why should you botanize who
have no right in the earth except a right to tread up-
on it ! This is all very well. I thought so at your age ;
and therefore, studied nothing but law and politics.
I advise you to take the same course ; yet still a little
time, have a few " horas subsecivas" in which to culti-
vate liberal knowledge. It will turn to account even
practically. If on a given occasion, a man can gracefully
and without the air of a pedant, show a little more
knowledge than the occasion requires, the world will
give him credit for eminent attainments. It is an
honest quackery. I have practised it, and sometimes
with success. It is something like studying an ex-
tempore speech, but even that done with address has

its effect. There is no doubt, at least, that the circle
of useful knowledge is much broader than it can be
proved to be in relation to any particular subject a
priori. We find connections and coincidences, helps
and succours where we did not expect them. I have
never learned anything which I wish to forget except
how badly some people have behaved, and I every
day find on almost every subject, that I wish I had
more knowledge than I possess, seeing that I could
produce it, if not for use yet for effect.'"

After the delivery of his discourse before the His^
torical Society, in New York, I met him, at the house
of a mutual friend. He called me to a private room
and presented to me some copies of his address, say-
ing, at the same time, " what do you think of it, Mr.
Professor V I replied : I have been both gratified
and surprised by its perusal ; gratified at the generous
appreciation of ancient authors, as they passed in re-
view ; and surprised at your familiarity with their in-
dividual peculiarities and excellencies. I did not sup-
pose that, engrossed as you are, in public and profes-
sional duties, you would be so well " posted up " in
classic lore. Then he remarked : I have not been an
idle man ; I have sometimes used books, and some-
times men. What I had not leisure to acquire by
study, I have often gained by conversation. Every
literary and scientific gentleman, here present, who
has enjoyed his pleasant society, will understand the
full import of these words. They are happily illus-
trated by an incident related of him by the late Dr.
Hall of Washington. He was an eminent geologist.
When Mr. Webster was a student this science was

unknown in our country. It grew up entirely while
his mind was engrossed by public and professional
duties. It became so prominent as often to force it-
self upon his notice. He wished to obtain some just
notions of its leading principles. He had no time to
use books ; he therefore used men. He commenced
with Dr. Hall. He called on him, one day, at his cab-
inet, and said to him : " Dr. Hall, you have here a
great variety of specimens of the rocks composing the
crust of our globe ; now I want you to show me their
relative position. — Please to take these fragments and
build for me a little world on geological principles."
The professor was, of course, happy to display his
knowledge to such a pupil, and proceeded to lecture,
for an hour, to an audience, " fit though few," or
rather " sole, " possessing, perhaps, as much intelli-
gence as any crowded assembly he had ever addressed.
Young children, too, found in him a boon compan-
ion. He was eminently attractive to children ; and
there are no better judges of kindness and sympathy
than they. Their feelings move them, apparently by
instinct, to cling to those who naturally take pleasure
in their society. So the vine clings, with caressing
tendrils, to the living tree ; but train it against a mar-
ble wall, and it never aspires ; but falling backward
trails along the ground. There was a fascination in
Mr. Webster's eye and in the tones of his voice which
made children seek his caresses. They followed him,
as he paced the floor, in meditation, and hung upon
the skirts of his coat ; and when he turned and snap-
ped at them, showing all his white teeth, they clap-
ped their hands and shouted as they scampered away

to some dark nook, ready to renew their attack as
soon as his back was turned. His little grand-chil-
dren used to stand upon his knees, place their hands
on the top of his head and kiss his forehead. He was
delighted. It seemed, he said, like a heavenly bene-
diction from these little innocents.

The late Webster Kelley, Esq., informed me that
when he was ten or twelve years of age, Mr. Webster
came to his father's house and proposed an excursion
to the top of Keasearge, which they accomplished on
the following day. As he came along side of the boy
he said : — " Well, my son, what are you studying at
school 1 " " Virgil," he replied. "At what point in
the epic 1 " " In the ninth book." " What is the
situation of the parties % " " iEneas," said the boy, "is
gone away in search of aid. The Trojans are fighting
Turnus, and I suppose he will kill them all or drive
them out of Italy." " Oh ! no," said Mr. Webster,
" -/Eneas will take care of him." " But," said the boy,
" I thought he was more famed for his piety than his
valor." " You are mistaken, my lad," said he, " he
was the greatest warrior the Trojans had except
Hector. He is now absent; when he returns he
will destroy Turnus and his army, and the Trojans
will settle in Italy." During the whole time he kept
up these pleasing and instructive allusions to the
studies of the boy, and left an impression on his
mind which was never effaced. When they reached
the top of the mountain they seated themselves
for a lunch. Mr. Webster cut a piece of ham and
offered it to the boy. He hesitated to take it in his
fingers. " Oh ! take it, my son," said Mr. Webster,

" fingers were made before forks. lulus never saw a
fork in his life." On such occasions he was full of
life and glee. He ran and leaped and shouted,
making the woods ring, too, with his merry peals of
laughter.

The same party that climbed Keasearge, on another
occasion ascended Mount Washington together. In
the morning, Mr. Webster ran, sung and shouted,
and seemed as playful as a child. Ethan Crawford,
with a sort of parental gravity, said to him — " You
will sing another song, sir, before night." But the
fatigue of climbing did not abate his cheerfulness and
love of fun ; on the contrary, his spirits rose with the
elevation of the mountain. This natural buoyancy of
spirits was only repressed by public cares. Public life
made him grave and taciturn in mixed society. His
brother, Ezekiel was cautious and deliberate. He was
less accessible to strangers, but eminently social with
friends. It was characteristic of both brothers to dis-
course in a free and familiar manner on important
topics to the members of their respective families.
Daniel used to say — "When I can present a matter
to Ezekiel and get his deliberate opinion upon it, I
am sure to be right." Neither of the brothers indul-
ged in repartees or jeux d'esprits in debate. Occasion-
aly, however, they admitted a playful remark into
their discussions. When Ezekiel Webster was in full
practice at the bar, he was employed to defend the will
of Roger Perkins of Hopkinton. The physician made
affidavit that the testator was struck with death when
he signed his will. Mr. Webster subjected his testi-
monv to a most searching examination ; showing, by

quoting medical authorities, that doctors disagree as
to the precise moment when a dying man is struck
with death ; some affirming that it is at the commence-
ment of the fatal disease ; others at its climax, and
others still affirm that we begin to die as soon as we
are born. " I should like to know," said Mr. Sullivan,
" what doctor, maintains that theory." " Dr. Watts,"
said Mr. Webster, with great gravity —

" The moment we begin to live
We all begin to die."

The reply convulsed the Court and audience with
laughter.

Numerous letters written by these brothers, now in
existence, and which are soon to see the light, furnish
abundant proof of their mutual confidence, and partic-
ularly of the high estimate which Daniel set upon his
brother's advice. In a letter dated April, 1804, Eze-
kiel gives his opinion on a question proposed by
Daniel, as follows: — "Agreeably to your injunction,
I have thought and meditated upon your letter for
three days and for no inconsiderable portion of three
nights, and I now give you the result as freely as I
earnestly wish your welfare. I am decidedly opposed
to your going to New York, and for several reasons.

The expensivcness of a journey to, and a residence
in that place, is with me, a material objection. "Se-
condly, the embarrassments to which you will be sub-
jected, without finances to assist or patronage to sup-
port. Thirdly, I fear the climate would be fatal to your
constitution. I have now told vou what I would not

have you do ; and I also tell you what I desire you
to do. I would have you decamp immediately from
Salisbury, with all your baggage, and inarch directly
to this place." Then he goes on to state the reasons
for this opinion which he had maturely formed. They
were substantially the same which ultimately influ-
enced Mr. Webster to remove to Boston.

Daniel's estimate of his brother's endowments may
be learned from the following extract from a letter
dated April 25, 1800 : — " You tell me that you have
difficulties to encounter which I know nothing of.
What do you mean, Ezekiel ? Do you mean to flat-
ter \ If so, be assured, you greatly mistake. There-
fore, for the future, say in your letters to me, ' I am
superior to you in natural endowments ; I will know
more, in one year, than you do now ; and more in six,
than you ever will.' I should not resent this lan-
guage ; I should be very well pleased in hearing it ;
but, be assured, as mighty as you are, your great puis-
sance should never gain a victory without a contest."
Whenever the brothers met, in after years, and in
better circumstances, they were accustomed to re-
hearse, with great glee, the trials and hardships of
their youth.

On one occasion, when Ezekiel was on a visit to
his brother, in Boston, after rising from a sumptuous
dinner, Ezekiel turned to his brother and said, with
great solemnity, " Daniel, do you think we shall live
till morning X " " Why % What do you mean \ " said
Daniel. " Don't you remember," said Ezekiel, " how,
when we were boys, at a certain time, we had no meal
in the house, and could get no corn ground, and our
11

mother fed us on potatoes and milk ; and after the
first supper, going up to bed, you turned round upon
the broad stair, and asked, with great seriousness,
" Ezekiel, do you think we shall live till morning V
" Why \ '; said I. " Only think what stuff we have
been eating."

Money, so difficult then to be earned or hired, in-
finitely more so, than it is now, occupied many of the
thoughts and plans of these young men Daniel, in
one of his early letters, intimated that he should soon
forward a small sum to Ezekiel, then in college. He
replied : — " The very hint seemed to dispel the gloom
that was thickening around me. It seemed like a
momentary flash that suddenly bursts through a night
of clouds, or, as Young says : —

' So look'd in chaos, the"first beam of light.

> j?

In 1802, Daniel writes to Ezekiel, with reference
to funds: — "I have now by me two cents in lawful
Federal money. Next week I will send them, if they
be all ; they will buy a pipe — with a pipe you can
smoke — smoking inspires wisdom ; wisdom is allied
to fortitude ; from fortitude, it is but one step to stoi-
cism, and stoicism never pants for this world's goods.
So, perhaps, my two cents, by this process, may put
you quite at ease about cash."

In another letter he writes, in parody of an old

song:

Fol de rol, dol de dol di dol ;
I'll never make money my idol,
For away our dollars will fly all ;

With my friend and my pitcher
I'm twenty times richer
Than if I made money my idol,
Fol de dol, dol de dol, di dol.

In 1805 he had ordered some law books which, he
deemed essential to his professional success ; but the
money to pay the price of them could not be found
by the agency of both the brothers ; he therefore
wrote to Ezekiel, then in Boston, as follows : — " As
yet, I find it not in my power to procure any money
for the purpose of paying for my books. I therefore
am under the necessity of requesting you to make my
peace with Mr. H. Parker. Give him something if
aught you have to give, to indemnity him for his
trouble and expense, and ask him to put the books
again on his shelves ; or, if anybody in Boston is fool
enough to lend you the money, please to buy them
for me." The generosity of the bookseller, however,
enabled him to keep them.

In the same letter he remarks : — " Some little
business is done here and I get a part of it. In time,
perhaps, I shall gratify my moderate and rational
wishes/' Previous to this date, it appears that he
had once procured the purchase money of the books
and lost it by his agent. He wrote respecting the
loss : — "It is utterly out of my power to repair the
loss of eighty-five dollars. I hired that money of a
friend in Salisbury, and cannot, as I know, hire again
a like sum."

In a letter to a classmate in 1803, he says: —
" Zeke is at Sanbornton ; he comes home once in a

while, sits down before the kitchen fire, begins to
poke and rattle the andirons ; I know what is coming,
and am mute. At length he puts his feet up into the
mouth of the oven, draws his right eyebrow up upon
his forehead, and begins a very pathetic lecture on the
evils of poverty. It is like church service ; he does

all the talking, and I only respond, amen ; amen ! "

In his early days Mr. Webster wrote some very
good poetry. In one instance, in particular, he ad-
dressed some pretty stanzas, to a lady who offered to
make him a purse for three verses of poetry. The
last stanza of the three written to secure the purse is
as follows : —

And thus Parnassian gifts are sold,

The better and the worse ;
Pope wrote for bags of glittering gold,

I for an empty purse.

Then he addressed a poem, of considerable length,
in a different metre, to the lady who made the purse.
From this we select two stanzas. The purse itself he
thus apostrophises : —

By avarice unsoiled, may'st thou ever abide,
And thy strings against the price of corruption be tied;
May thy owner, from sorrow, its pittance ne'er squeeze,
Nor tarnish thy lustre with ill-gotten fees.

Yet may fortune supply thee with plentiful store,
And the world of its cash grant enough and no more,
While thy contents with children of want I divide,
Nor half the last cent to a friend be denied.

The address to Daniel Abbott, Esq., who was the
bearer of the poetic epistle, was as follows : —

When Allan Ramsay once sent greeting

A sonnet to his Miss,
He told the bearer at their meeting

For his reward to take a kiss.
Now Daniel, though you love not pelf,

You'll sorely like so sweet a fee;
You'll find a dozen for yourself,

Yet if you please take one for me.

Some of his early contributions to the public jour-
nals exhibit more than ordinary poetic talent. We
will quote one little morceau, from the Dartmouth
Gazette, dated July 24, 1802: —

[For the Dartmouth Gazette, July 24, 1S02.]

"AH ME AND WAS IT I?"

Damon the handsome and the young,

Before me breathed his sighs ;
Love gave the rhetoric to his tongue

The lustre to his eyes.
A nymph, he said, had waked a flame,

That never more would die.
And softly whispered out her name —

Ah me ! and was it I ?
With joy, I heard his tale reveal'd,

Yet like a gairish fool
The rapture which I felt, concealed;

For woman loves to rule.
Not all his vows nor all his tears,

One love-like smile could gain ;
I mock'd his hopes, incrcas'd his fears,

And triumph' d in his pain.
At length forlorn he tvtrn'd away,

Nor more for me would sigh ;
But left me to remorse a prey — >

Ah trie and was it I? Icabus.

It was quite common at dinner parties for gentle-
men who knew Mr. Webster's inimitable power of
narration in giving grace and point to the happy
turns of an anecdote, to call on him t© repeat some
favorite story. At Washington, I heard him relate
an incident in the life of Randolph with great effect.
The dates and references cannot accurately be recall-
ed, but sometime during the first years of Mr. Web-
ster's service, in Congress, Mr. Calhoun was speaking
upon a proposition to require all the government dues
to be paid in silver and gold. He was opposed to the
measure; argued its inconvenience to the agents of
the government with great ability, and incidentally
asserted that in no instance had our government ever
resorted to such a measure. Mr. Webster, sitting by
Randolph's side, said to him : — "He is mistaken on
that point ; for there is a post office law in the year
17 — requiring deputies to receive only silver and
gold in payment of postage." " Is there such a law \ '
said Randolph, with great eagerness ; " show it to
me." Mr. Webster stepped to the Clerk's desk and
selected the volume of United States laws which con-
tained the enactment alluded to, and opening to the
very page where it was found, gave the book to Ran-
dolph. He studied it attentively, noted the page,
chapter and section. The moment Mr. Calhoun took
his scat, Randolph rose, and in his shrill and harsh

tones, shouted : — " Mr. Speaker," and gaining his
attention, he proceeded to say : — " Nil admirari, is
one of the beautiful and sententious maxims of Horace
which I learned in my boyhood, and to this day I
have been wont to believe in its truth and to follow it
in practice. But I give it up. It is no longer a rule
of my life. I do wonder and am utterly astonished that
a man who assumes to legislate for the country should
be so utterly ignorant of its existing laws. The gen-
tleman mentions that the bill before the House intro-
duces a new provision into our legislation. He does
not know that it has ever been incorporated into any
statute by any Congress in our country's history, when
it has been a common usage almost from the infancy
of our nation. Macgruder," screamed the excited
orator to one of the clerks, " Macgruder, take vol.***
of the United States laws, page 150, chapter 16, sec-
tion 10, and read." The clerk read: — " Be it enact-
ed, &c, that all the dues of postal department shall
be paid in silver and gold," &c. "Witness," said
Randolph, " the gentleman's innocent simplicity, his
utter want of acquaintance with the laws of the land
for which he affects to be a leading legislator. Now,
Mr. Speaker, I was educated to know the laws of my
country. The law just recited has been familiar to me
from childhood ; indeed, I cannot remember the time
when I did not know it ; yet simple and elementary
as it is, the gentleman, in his superficial study of our
laws, has overlooked it."

Richard M. Johnson and Mr. Webster, though op-
posed to each other on political opinions, were always
on good terms, as private friends. When Mr. Johnson

was Vice-President, some private bill was before the
Senate, upon the merits of which Mr. Webster had.
conferred with Mr. Johnson, and inferred from his
conversation that he approved of its provisions. It
happened, when the vote was taken upon its passage,
that the Senate was equally divided. Of course the
decisive vote was given by the Vice-President. He.
much to Mr. Webster's surprise, voted against it. Af-
ter the rejection of the bill, Mr. Webster stepped up
to the desk of the presiding- officer, and said, softly: —
" Mr. Johnson, I rather relied on your vote to carry
this measure. I feel a little disappointed at your
vote. I have always found you true to your profes-
sions on other occasions." " Oh," said Mr. Johnson,
" we all mistake sometimes. We are frail and erring-
creatures, liable to get out of the way. The world,
you know, ivabbles a little."

Both the brothers were distinguished for their fine
social qualities. In no place was Mr. Daniel Web-
ster more attractive than at his own fireside. Here
he showed that genuine wit described by Sidney
Smith, which " penetrates through the coldness and
awkwardness of society, gradually bringing men nearer
together, and, like the combined force of wine and
oil, giving every man a glad heart and a shining-
countenance." This trait of character, so amiable and
winning, he inherited from his honored father. Wri-
ting to his son in 1840, he says: — "I believe we are
all indebted to my fathers mother for a large portion
of the little sense and character which belong to us.
Her name was Susannah Bachclder ; she was the
daughter of a clergyman, and a woman of uncommon
strength of understanding."

All the letters of Mr. Webster are models of episto-
latory composition, simple, graceful, pertinent, show-
ing the right words in the right places, and abounding
in kindness even to his foes. Mr. "Webster early made
it a principle, in writing, to put nothing upon paper
which might not be printed the next day without in-
jury to himself or others. He followed this rule so
implicitly, that if all his letters should be published
to-morrow, no man would have reason to complain
that the character of the dead was injured, or the feel-
ings of the living wounded. His self-control in speak-
ing of his political opponents, even of those who had
wronged him, grieviously wronged him, and in refu-
ting their charges, is quite as remarkable as any fea-
ture of his character. It is scarcely probable to so many
letters, essays and speeches — covering so long a pe-
riod of violent political controversy — can be found in
the world's history so free from personal attacks and
unkind cuts as the unpublished correspondence and
speeches of Mr. Webster. He does not even " damn
by faint praise," or " hesitate dislike," when he deals
with an adversary. He yields to him all the advan-
tage which nature, education, or private character
may give him, and advances to the conflict without
ambuscade or false lures, in the open field, with no
other weapons but sound argument and brilliant ora-
tory. His forthcoming correspondence will show Mr.
Webster, in his letters, as he thought, spoke, and
acted in private life. Every phase of his character
will be exhibited. The epistles to his brother and
classmates, and the correspondence of his student life,
will show where he wandered in the realms of science
and literature, what authors he chose for his private
12

teachers, and how he moulded and matured his pol-
ished English style. His early struggle with poverty,
his warm friendship, which terminated only at his
death, are there depicted with the vividness of real life.

Mr. Webster's works will constitute a rich legacy
to coming generations, which, unlike all other estates,
will be enhanced in value, by minute division and
individual appropriation.

The Hon. George T. Davis of Greenfield, was next
called upon, but he declined speaking, saying that
his substitute, Hon. William G. Bates of Westfield,
had a written speech (laughter) which he was anxious
to deliver. Mr. Bates said he had no speech ; but he
wished to offer the following resolutions : —

Resolved, That a committee of three persons be appointed
by the Chairman of this meeting, to notify a meeting of the
friends of Mr. Webster, to assemble in the city of Boston, on
the 18th ot January, 1857.

Resolved, That the persons present at this meeting re-
solve themselves into an association to inculcate and carry
out the principles as to the importance and perpetuity of the
Union, and the great national questions which Mr. Webster,
by his life and speeches, so eloquently enforced and illus-
trated.

These resolutions were unanimously adopted, and
the Chairman said he would take time to appoint the
committee.

Adolphus Davis, Esq., gave the following toast: —

Cape Cod College — the plough handles — May she con-
ceive once more, and bring forth another General !

The festivities ended at twelve o'clock. The Ban-
quet was a demonstration worthy of the Birth-Day of
Daniel Webster. There was one man absent — by
reason of severe illness — who was greatly missed.
The compiler of this pamphlet was permitted to know

that he made more than common exertion to be pres-
ent on the occasion, and sincerely desired to unite
with Mr. Everett and the other distinguished and ac-
complished gentlemen — who spoke during the even-
ing — in paying, once again, his public tribute to the
memory of Mr. Webster. Had Mr. Choate been in
any condition of health to justify the risk of his at-
tendance, he would have been at the dinner, and would
have added another to the series of his masterly eulo-
gies of the great statesman — not inferior in freshness
and grandeur, we may venture to say, — to any of
his previous performances.

Letters were received from United States Senators
Crittenden of Kentucky, Bell of Tennessee, Kusk of
Texas, Cass of Michigan, and others.

We insert here, the following letter from Gen.

Cass: —

Washington, Jan. 10, 1856.

Dear Sir, — I cannot accept your invitation to meet
the friends of Mr. Webster on the 18th inst., the an-
niversary of his birth-day, in order to interchange re-
collections of the patriot, and orator and statesman,
because my public duties will necessarily detain me
here. To these and other high claims to distinction
in life, and to fame in death, he added for me the as-
sociations of early youth, and the kindness and friend-
ship of mature age, as well as of declining years. I
have read with deep and mournful interest the extract
from his letter to you, which you were good enough
to inclose, written at the termination of the struggle
which attended the compromise measure of 1850, in
which he says that " General Cass, General Husk,
Mr. Dickenson, &c., have agreed that since our en-
trance upon the stage of public action, no crisis has
occurred fraught with so much danger to the institu-
tions of the country as that through which it has just

passed, and that, in all human probability, no other
of so great moment will occur again during the re-
mainder of our lives, and therefore we will hereafter
be friends, let our political differences on minor sub-
jects be what they may." This tribute of affectionate
regard to his coadjutors in a common struggle against
a common peril, from him, whose sendees were so
pre-eminent, will be cherished, I am sure, with proud
recollection by all of us, to whom these words of kind-
ness now come from the tomb. You say that this en-
gagement, on the part of our lamented friend, was, to
your personal knowledge, faithfully kept. It was so.
I know it, and rejoice at it. And I believe I may add,
with not less assurance, that the conviction you ex-
press of the same fidelity to this bond of union and
esteem on the part of those who co-operated with him,
is equally well founded, and that, though death has
dissolved the connection, yet his name and his fame
are dear to them, and will ever find in them zealous
advocates and defenders.

The grave closed upon this great statesman and
American before another crisis fraught with evil pas-
sions and imminent dangers had come to shake his
confidence in the permanency of the wise and healing
measures of 1850. What he did not live to see, his
associates in that work of patriotism, the whole coun-
try indeed now sees, that we have again fallen upon
evil times, and that the fountains of agitation are
broken up, and the waters are out over the land.
There is no master spirit to say Peace be still, and to
be heard and heeded. Our trust is in the people of
this great republican confederation, and yet more in
the God of their fathers and their own God, who
guided and guarded us through the dreary wilderness
of the revolution, and brought us to a condition of
freedom and prosperity, of which the history of the
world furnishes no previous example. Would that
the eloquent accents, which are now mute in death ;
would that the burning words of him whose birth you
propose to commemorate, and of his great compeer of

the West, though dead, yet living in the hearts of his
countrymen, could now be heard warning the Amer-
ican people of the dangers impending over them, and
calling them to the support of that Union and Consti-
tution which have done so much for them and for
their fathers, and are destined to do so much more for
them and for their children, if not sacrificed upon the
altar of a new Moloch, Avhose victims may be the in-
stitutions of our country. If this sectional agitation
goes on, this ever pressing effort to create and perpet-
uate diversions between the North and the South,
we shall find that we cannot live together in peace,
and shall have to live together in war. And what
such a condition would bring with it between inde-
pendent countries, thus situated, once friends, but
become enemies, the impressive narrative of the fate
of the Grecian republics teaches us as plainly as the
future can be taught by the lessons of the past. Your
own state took a glorious part in the war of indepen-
dence, and it contribited ably and faithfully to the
adoption of the Constitution. Her great deeds and
great names are inscribed upon the pages of our his-
tory, and upon the hearts of our countrymen. How
would he who loved and served her so well, and
whose love and service were so honorable to her —
how would he deplore the position she has assumed
towards the government of our common country, and
the solemn provisions of its Constitution, were he now
living to witness the triumph of sectional feelings
over the dictates of duty and patriotism'? Let us
hope that this is but a temporary delusion, and that
it will soon pass away, leaving our institution un-
scathed, and the fraternal tie which still binds us
together unimpaired.

I am, dear sir, with much regard, respectfully yours 5

LEWIS CASS.
Peter Harvey, Esq., Boston.

Letter from Col. Bullock.

Worcester, 18th January, 1856.

My Dear Sir, — I regret that in consequence of the
state of my health I must forego the pleasure of my
engagement to be with the friends of our great de-
parted statesman this evening. The occasion will be
one of intense and gratifying interest, and it only
remains for me to express to you my deepest sympa-
thy in all the reminiscences of the hour. Almost as
if he were now in the midst of us, — so gently has
time as yet dealt with our memory, — we can recall
him, with his august form, his kind, parental eye, his
genial smile, or in his solemn mien, as he was wont
to appear among you in Boston, in the scenes of his
forensic triumph and social pastime ; or at Marshfield,
whither he many a time repaired, upon his broad
acres, and by the side of the sea, to seek a refuge from
the cares of state. And yet, though it is not difficult
to invest the imagination with his ideal presence, there
is, after all, abundant and painful evidence in the
present distracted condition of public affairs that the
great genius of Daniel Webster, the fullness of his
wisdom, and the compass of his patriotism, have de-
parted. Never were they more needed than now, and
at no time has there been a greater exigency for his
instructions and his counsels. But though he has
gone, his works have not followed him. The value
of his written and spoken words, and above all, of his
patriotic example in every emergency which threaten-
ed our common welfare, remains undimmed by the
passage of time, and will receive additional lustre with
every year that sets its seal upon his tomb.

It is in this view of his character and his services,
that we need not regret that Mr. Webster was not
chosen President of the United States ; for he will be
the teacher of Presidents and Cabinets while the
Union shall last. We need not regard that to his head
was not assigned a place in that charmed circle of

medallions which represents all the Presidents and
hangs upon the walls of so many edifices ; for rather,
far rather, would we have it stand out isolated upon
the canvas, in its own classic and unshackled pro-
portions, awakening the remembrance of his more
than heroic deeds, and challenging the admiration of
patriotic and intelligent men, from generation to
generation.

Let us, then, my dear sir, bring the lessons which
he gave us while living, still closer to our hearts, and
cherish his memory by following his example and
instructions. Let us as citizens walk in the national
pathway which he marked out, illumined as it is by
the noblest eloquence of modern times, and termina-
ting in the permanent peace of this Union. What-
ever invitations may beckon us in any other direction,
— whatever temporary issues, or transient excite-
ments, or sectional animosities, may spring up around
us and allure us elsewhere, let it be be our resolute
purpose to adhere sternly to the Constitution, which,
as it is by its origin forever associated with the names
of Hamilton and Madison, will in its beneficent devel-
opment and progress bear to the latest posterity the
renown of him whose name will be this evening upon
all our lips and in all our hearts. In this spirit,
though I cannot be with you, I pledge to you my
hearty co-operation in whatever shall do honor to the
name of Webster ; " a great and venerated name, a
name which has made this country respected in every
other on the globe."

I remain, very truly, your ob't serv't,

A. H. BULLOCK.

Peter Harvey, Esq., Boston.

CONTENTS.

Preface 3

The names of the subscribers to the dinner 5

The dinner and the hall decorations 9

Prayer of Rev. Chandler Robbins 11
Speech of Hon. Edward Everett . 12

" of Hon. George S. Hillard 41

Poem of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes 49

Speech of Gen. Nye, of New York 52

Hon. Robert H. Shenck, of Ohio 58

Hon. George Ashmun, of Springfield 60

Hon. Henry C. Deming, of Connecticut 63

Hon. Otis P. Lord, of Salem 65
Prof. E. D. Sanborn, of Dartmouth College 71
Remarks of Hon. George T. Davis, of Greenfield, and

resolutions of Hon. William G. Bates, of Westfield 90

Letter of Gen. Cass 91

" Hon. A. H. Bullock 94

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